Song of the Seraphim, Book Three, Bolero
by Orpheus2
Summary: And finally has book three arrived. Stripped of the powers of two lives and given the new powers of a third, he has been given the unenviable task of saving the world from those already trying to save it, and that only at first. Insert Standard Disclaim
1. Default Chapter

Song of the Seraphim, Book 3  
  
Bolero  
  
Prologue  
  
--------  
  
Trent's smile never wavered. "Hear my pleas, and Unleash Twilight!"  
  
Valred's eyes widened as the circle in Trent's hands erupted into a swirling void, some kind of vortex of darkness. "wHAT tHE hELL iS tHAT! My Power! What's Happening To My Power!"  
  
"It's gone," Trent said simply. "It's all here, right now."  
  
Valred gasped in shock and pain as the power began to flow out of him. "B- b-but that's impossible! This power is Mine!" He stared wild-eyed at Trent. "HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS?!?!?!"  
  
Trent threw his head back and laughed. "You idiot! I gambled, and I won. You should be flattered, what with your obsession with being first. No one has ever seen this spell before, not even the only other man to know it, Rei Magnus himself!"  
  
Valred dug his feet in, and began hurling energy blasts at the gate, at the caster, anything he thought might slow it down. "What the hell is that thing?!"  
  
Trent's smile turned strained as the gate's energy began fluctuating; it was getting harder to keep open. "It's simple. This spell draws its power from the Lord of Nightmares, using the powers of the other seven spirits of this world to form a seal strong enough to make the energy safely usable."  
  
"BUT I'M THE LORD OF NIGHTMARES!" Valred screamed. "I DIDN'T LET YOU DO THIS!"  
  
Trent shook his head, amusement suddenly gone. "That's just it. You're not the Lord of Nightmares; that's why it worked. Zelgadis told me how she reacted when Phibrizzo tried to toy with her power; she doesn't take kindly to meddling. And while your ceremony might have been enough to keep her contained, she didn't like it. You weren't becoming her vessel, you were trying to rape her powers into yourself. And all it took was another outlet for Her will to flow through, and she could strike back with everything she has. She has Chosen Me as her conduit for a moment, but a moment of choice is a lot stronger than a lifetime of your coercion. Good- bye, Valred."  
  
The man who would be god had struggled, he'd cast every spell he knew and some on the fly. He'd dug his feet in, dragged every barrier he could in between him and the hunger of that void. None of it mattered. By the time Trent had said Good-bye, he was finished. All that remained was for the actual mechanisms of the gate swallowing him whole, and slamming shut.  
  
"You...you did it..."  
  
--------  
  
Zelgadis gave him a strange look. "You never did answer Zelas's question. What's this spell doing to you?"  
  
Trent smiled. "Twilight is a forbidden spell, a lot like the Giga Slave. It channels the power of the Lord of Nightmares to destroy your opponent. It has one HUGE advantage though; it uses the power of seven other spirits and gods to contain and control the power, so it's impossible to destroy the world with it." His voice was fading quickly. "Still, there's one problem, or I would have used it in the first place.""What problem?" Zelgadis asked.  
  
"It's a...final...strike." Trent's voice was almost gone, fading as though he were falling asleep. "Take...your tar...get...with...you..."  
  
--------  
  
The current speaker waved her hand, banishing the portal. "As you can see, a perfectly simple case. The hero fights to save the world and wins, then dies. That's it. Certainly, dying for a cause is worthy, but it hardly qualifies the one doing so for anything special." She darted a look at her opponents in this particular duel.  
  
Hermes, Greek god of messengers, commerce, and people who lived (and died) by their wits, rolled his eyes expressively. He'd been chosen as a fairly neutral party to arbitrate this particular argument, and while it was a bit unusual, he still didn't see what all the fuss was about. Still, if he was going to do it, he wouldn't do it halfway. "Thank you for your side of the argument, but I think that everyone here will agree that you're slightly prejudiced in this matter, Kardis." He sighed tiredly as he turned to the other contingent. "We've heard the opening statements of those opposing the ressurection of the dragon elf, Trent Shadowlight. Alright, those for?"  
  
Falaris stood, the obvious choice for this movement. "Trent did NOT just die trying to help a planet, he died trying to protect Our sanctity, trying to prevent a lunatic from making us into nothing more than divine batteries. If THAT doesn't deserve something slightly preferential, nothing does." He sat.  
  
The opposition consisted of currently four deities; Kardis, Ares, Eris (1), and one other. He chose to rise now. "Certainly, the actions of this elf were useful. Still, it is divine protocol not to interfere in the affairs of mortals if possible. A dead man has already gone on to his reward, and I for one see no reason to shift the system for his benefit. The system is sacrosanct; it cannot be changed."  
  
Virtually all assembled glared hatefully at him. While not a god of evil (he represented lawful neutral to a mind-numbing degree), he was probably the single most hated deity there. Considering that such gods as Erythrul, God of Slaughter was there, as well as Zuriel, patron saint of pestilience, this is saying something.  
  
He didn't give himself a real name. As such, the people are him had fitted him with the nom de guerre 'Double-Click.' He was the protector of accountants, IRS tax collecters and auditers, and the bean counters of the political machine. His title was technically, 'Patron Saint of bureacrats,' and he generally made the lives of everyone around him miserable in his fervent desire to keep things technically correct. As it was, the only reason he was kept around was to keep the prayers of his people from gumming up the works, and keep the parts of heaven running that could actually use his finicky dedication to the rules.  
  
Elle (She felt that Lord of Nightmares was a bit mouth-filling for normal company) rose. "If you think for a moment that he 'simply died,' then I'm rather tempted to drop you into the Sea of Chaos, just to watch you spend the rest of eternity desperately trying to organize that which defies order on a level you couldn't effect. You recall his analogy to the situation?" A gesture brought a new scene of the last battle back.  
  
--------  
  
"BUT I'M THE LORD OF NIGHTMARES!" Valred screamed. "I DIDN'T LET YOU DO THIS!"  
  
Trent shook his head, amusement suddenly gone. "That's just it. You're not the Lord of Nightmares; that's why it worked. Zelgadis told me how she reacted when Phibrizzo tried to toy with her power; she doesn't take kindly to meddling. And while your ceremony might have been enough to keep her contained, she didn't like it. You weren't becoming her vessel, you were trying to rape her powers into yourself. And all it took was another outlet for Her will to flow through, and she could strike back with everything she has. She has Chosen Me as her conduit for a moment, but a moment of choice is a lot stronger than a lifetime of your coercion. Good- bye, Valred."  
  
--------  
  
Elle glared around at the assembly. As the Creator of her own neck of the multi-verse, she had a LOT more power than most of those assembled here; she was considered and Elder Goddess, one of those who came before the Yggdrasil protocols. "This man threw his life away for My sake, and I pay my debts. Inverse was repaid for her protection of My powers; he will be as well."  
  
"Actually, he didn't really give a rat's (censored) about your sanctity," Eris noted casually. "All he really cared about was making sure he could climb into that Beastmaster's panties."  
  
Elee rolled her eyes in disgust at the crude goddess. "First of all, he cast a suicidal spell; how precisely did he think that he would then be able to 'climb into that Beastmaster's panties?' Secondly, please recall that Greater Beast Zelas Metallium is my direct grand-daughter. Why precisely should it offend me that he chose to protect her?"  
  
Ares just smiled darkly. He didn't particularly care what happened with this; all he knew was that if he played it right, he could wring all kinds of pain and suffering out of it.  
  
Kardis glared at them. "You keep carping on about his respect for sanctity; fine, let's play personal then. Why the Hell do you think I'm going to allow you to ressurect the man who tried to kill me? ME?! He had the GALL to think he could stop a goddess's will!"  
  
"That was MY will," Falaris stated coldly. "Now sit down and shut the hell up. Don't," he added menacingly before she could react, "forget that you're a part of MY pantheon. The Pantheon I control." He smiled, turning to regard both Eris and Kardis. "If I may paraphrase, 'Which among you is mightier than I? Let all of you lay hold to a chain of gold, and strive with all your might. You could not pull Me down. But if I so chose, I could drag you down. Yea, drag you all and hang you from that chain, and let all Heaven and Earth swing from the highest peak of My Domain.'" (2)  
  
Kardis glared at him, but subsided. He'd been speaking the truth; Falis could have stood against him, but she couldn't. And worst of all, Falis was on His side right now; apparently the elf had managed to impress even that tight-ass. "My point stands. He managed to banish me from that plane of Lodoss, and for what? Two little sluts who made goo-goo eyes at him once or twice. That is HARDLY something I see as worth rewarding."  
  
"END THIS NOW."  
  
Hermes had been leaning back in his chair, feet carelessly propped up to hear the complaints before he decided whether or not to interfere. At the sound of The Voice, he quite spectacularly fell backwards out of his chair in an attempt to get back up. Scrambling to his feet, he bowed. "My Lord."  
  
The Almighty smiled slightly at the messenger god's antics. The evolution of gods of mischief and comedy had been quite a stroke of good luck. Though if they hadn't evolved he probably would have made them himself eventually. "THIS CONVERSATION, THIS TRIAL IS MOOT. WHAT HAPPENS TO THE DRAGON ELF ARE NO LONGER YOUR CONCER, HERMES. I WILL ADDRESS ANY COMPLAINTS AGAINST MY DECISION, BUT I SINCERELY HOPE THAT NONE ARISE. THAT IS ALL."  
  
THAT stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest. The Almighty had quite simply and calmly informed them that if they didn't shut up and get off this case now, He would be displeased. None of them had forgotten the last time he'd gotten displeased; the last Big Bang.  
  
As the various listeners dispersed to discuss this new bit of gossip fodder, Falaris steeled himself and approached the strongest force in his universe. "My Lord, I am well aware that this is unbearably coarse of me, but I'm afraid that I have to ask you a few questions concerning your plans for Shadowlight."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. No longer in official mode, he chose to speak in a less divine form, simply the voice of a god, as opposed to God. "You make it sound as though you're asking my intentions towards your child."  
  
Falaris didn't sweat-drop, but felt the illusion fit. "Um...not quite what I meant. I just wanted to know what you planned to do with him? Not that I expect to learn Your Will," he added hastily, "but...well, as I told Trent, it's hard to find decent worshipers. I try to keep track of the ones I get."  
  
The Almighty gazed at the God of Night, then decided he deserved an answer. "You are aware of Anubis's involvement?"  
  
Falaris nodded. "If you mean that red-headed monk, then yes, we both watched Trent while he was dealing with Elle's world. If you mean old Jackal-head, this is the first I've heard of it."  
  
He shook his head. "No, the Egyptian god isn't part of this; at least not yet. Regardless, I can only tell you as much as he knows; I'm forbidden from saying more."  
  
Falaris's jaw dropped. The Almighty did NOT use the word forbidden in regards to himself; that was the whole point of being called the Almighty. "Uh...did you take an oath of some kind?" That could explain it; if He chose to limit himself, then it was one thing.  
  
He smiled faintly. "No, I was forbidden. By a power capable of that."  
  
"But..."  
  
He raised his hand. "Don't worry about it too much. All you really need to know is that Trent has already been reincarnated, in a form that was thought to be acceptably linked to his former states and species, though he no longer has elvish blood."  
  
With that, He walked away, calling over his shoulder. "Go to the same part of the scrying realm if you're still curious. Anubis will be watching again, and I think you'll find it amusing if nothing else."  
  
Falaris watched him fade away, then shook his head. It had started out simply enough; a power play among gods, his attempt to try and lessen the goddess he sincerely disliked the most in his world. Then that business with the cross-world teleportation, and he'd decided it could be interesting. Now this; the Almighty himself was working to keep meddling in this to a minimum.  
  
"Which portal was it?"  
  
Falaris turned to regard the amorphous shape before him. "Oh will you stop that already? We both know you still have a normal shape; please take it."  
  
Elle's current form of a shapeless mass of darkness gave the impression of having smirked, then faded into her true form; a pale human woman with hair like spun gold, wearing a tight if not immodest black dress. "This better?"  
  
Falaris rolled his eyes. "Yes, but is the shovel really necessary?"  
  
Ell shrugged. "Keeping up appearances; I'm not completely sure why My mortals think I carry this, but our forms are based on belief, you know." She raised an eyebrow. "Such as your current form?"  
  
Falaris coughed nervously. That he resembled Ashram dressed in black clothing and a trench coat was not lost on her. "Yes, point taken." Extending an arm, he bowed graciously, mostly to regain his composure. "Shall we?"  
  
Elle laughed, resting a hand on his arm. Night and Chaos, they'd gone out for a few eons once. "I would be delighted."  
  
--------  
  
Anubis looked up in surprise. "All of you?"  
  
Falis shrugged. "He prayed to me and holds the Holy Sword. He's not mine, so I have no intention of interfering, but I DO want to see what happens to him. It might be useful."  
  
Anubis nodded slowly. "The Lord of Nightmares I can understand, after what he did in that last world, but why you?"  
  
Hermes smiled. "I've been getting bored; this might liven things up in between Divine Proclamations." He casually wove some cloud fleece into a quick La-Z-Boy recliner, adding a dish of cheetoh's on a small end table (actually ambrosia, but it can take any possible shape, consistency, and flavor), and sat down calmly. "What universe is this?"  
  
Anubis grimaced. "This one is in rather desperate need of intervention; I think you'll recognize it?"  
  
The messenger leaned forward, and winced. "Oh, one of THOSE timelines. Dragons of Heaven and Dragons of Earth, right?"  
  
Anubis nodded. "One week of extremely complicated interaction that leads to the end of all civilization and most of the life on the planet, all because of one individual who decides they've got what it takes to decide the fate of a planet. As such, I'll agree with you; this place NEEDS someone who'll shake it up, shift to a new paradigm. Trent's going to be doing it."  
  
Hermes shook his head; everyone else was watching, and none of them seemed to be too interested in his questions. "I'm curious; there aren't any elves in this world. Obviously, there are dragons, but as near as I can tell the seven harbingers and the seven seals are still there; who's he going to be that will have enough power to change this?"  
  
Anubis shrugged as he settled down to watch for himself. "I checked, and apparently it's a cross-over universe; there's another group of dragons here that make Kamui look like a spoon bender. Trent gets a buy-in to that."  
  
--------  
  
Night had fallen.  
  
The Tokyo skyline is less memorable than you'd think; there's the Tokyo Tower, but that's about the only thing that you don't see in just about every other major urban cityscape.  
  
That one landmark is our greatest point of interest. Standing at the very top, balancing on the spire of the radio communication tower, was a slight, young man. He was startlingly beautiful; an aristocratic face that was femininely attractive, beautiful, but somehow avoided making him look like an actual girl. He was dressed in a fairly ordinary highschool student's uniform, black with red lining at some of the jacket's seams. The ordinary was destroyed rather thoroughly by the long cloak he wore, fluttering in the high winds.  
  
He smiled archly, showing off quite a stubborn, arrogant streak in that single instant of expression. "Mother...I kept my promise. I've arrived in Tokyo...with the promised day..."  
  
He leapt from the antennae, teleporting and flying both as the mood struck him.  
  
"In 1999."  
  
Farther away, three young men were waiting on a completely different skyscraper. They were quite obviously related; in face and form, they could well be considered to be models of a single man as he grew, though not quite, and with different hair as well. The youngest one looked to be a fairly ordinary highschool student; tousled auburn brown hair in a simple cut, dressed in a black high school uniform. HIS mark of the unordinary was the six-foot staff dangling from his fingers as he sat on the edge of the skyscraper's roof; black and silver, it resembled the staff carried by a wandering buddhist monk. "Hajime...are you sure? We've finally found him?"  
  
Hajime sighed. The oldest, he looked it. A young man rather than a boy, he stood slightly over six feet in height, a leanly muscular young man, his black hair tumbling loosely over his head. He was too old for a highschool uniform, chosing to instead to wear a blue sports jacket over a white shirt and khakis, his claim to the unusual the four foot long blue dragon sword slung across one shoulder. "I don't know...not for sure. I can feel something, but you both know what's happening to the world. The ground shifts and groans, the leylines struggle to bite back their cries...something will happen soon enough."  
  
The last one nodded. He could have out-bishonened the first strange boy, his hair a lighter brown then his brother's, almost blonde. He smiled knowingly as he gazed across the cityscape, the red-leather-bound book in his hands proving an odd contrast to his own choice of violet turtleneck over blue jeans. "He's here, Amaru. Outside powers are interfering with the Tome, but they can't keep anything from it completely. He's in Tokyo, and we'll find him soon."  
  
Amaru sighed. "I hope you're right, Tsuzuku. I really hope you're right."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: Not much, I know, but I didn't really have all that much to put down on short notice. Mainly, I just wanted to reassure that Trent is still alive, Song of the Seraphim continues, and that Book Three will be completed before Books Four or Six. Again, I apologize for the confusion that might have caused.  
  
(1) - While AN Eris was featured in Book Two, this is a different one, one who I hasten to add, she was not named for. In Greek mythology, Eris was the younger sister of Ares, the god of bloody conquest. She was the goddess of Strife, Hatred, and Discord; her job was keeping people from getting along. She was the one who started the Trojan War in the first place; the one that completely wiped out a thriving civilization on the shores of what is now modern day Turkey.  
  
(2) - This refers to a speech made by Zeus in the Iliad. Not only is it appropriate for dealing with Kardis, but a subtle reminder to Eris that she's nowhere NEAR the top of the divine pecking order. 


	2. Chapter One: Questions

Song of the Seraphim, Book Three  
  
Bolero  
  
Chapter One  
  
Questions...  
  
Sanguis Falaris in one hand, Spiritus Falis in the other, Trent jogged forward. Kardis, seeming to sense the opposing energy, lanced out jagged forks of her crimson lightning. The combined might of the dark and light swords wove a circular shield around him that not even She could pierce. Standing before the pit and the altar, he tightened his grip, summoning every shred of energy within him. "Deed...Tess...Zelas...I'm coming."  
  
Grinning ferally, he leapt into the air, falling towards the dark altar. For the first time, he roared as he fell to combat; the whisper quiet assassin gone for a moment.  
  
That final clash was a thing of awe. A last, desperate barrier had been erected between the dark elf and the altar; Kardis would not be fully reborn until the souls of the elves belonged within her. The twin swords unloosed their full energies in an unstoppable torrent of force; incandescent and violet, like tongues of chain lightning. The two energies surged wildly, focused under Trent's single-minded command; finish Her off.  
  
On the one side, a fallen, hibernating goddess of insanity and destruction.  
  
On the other a half-mad assassin dark elf wielding two weapons of godly power.  
  
In the end, destruction turned in on itself.  
  
Without the last surge of the barrier's power, the two swords ripped savagely into the ethereal barrens holding Kardis, laying waste to what lay beneath. The mere presence of the two swords's full energies rippled the air like black sand mirages, churning their wake into a pillar of pearlescent light.  
  
A light that stretched beyond worlds, spun filigreed from darkness.  
  
He smiled as he fell through the shield, only to gasp in shock as his senses proved him wrong; she had survived, and not even the Swords bathed in the essences of two opposing gods would be enough.  
  
Snarling under his breath, the assassin raised his hand, channeling the power. To speak the words, to name those Seven Gods would be his death sentence; he knew that already. It was simply a question of which he valued more; his own life, or the lives of the three women who were to be devoured.  
  
It was a matter of little thought.  
  
Raising his hand, he channeled the forces of the seven elements, weaving the spirits of the gods into a gate. Gate into chaos, gate into his own death, but gate into their lives...  
  
--------  
  
Trent gasped as he awoke, sitting bolt upright in bed. Panting raggedly, he turned to stare at his alarm clock. 4:38 AM. Groaning to himself, he slumped forward, his head resting on his hands. "Again." Hoisting his lanky, six foot frame off the futon, he turned to enter the tiny kitchen of his flat. He knew from experience that sleep would not be coming back any time soon, and by the time it did, he'd have to be ready for school.  
  
Setting the saucepan on the gas burner, he waited for the water to boil. He could have just knuckled under and bought a tea kettle, but this was cheaper, and really, what difference did it make? He slumped into the chair at the small table, staring at the blue gas flames under the water. This night brought the total up to forty two nights. Forty two nights he'd woken up from impossibly real dreams; dreams of himself, but someone else.  
  
They'd started out strangely enough; he'd somehow decided he was an elf of some kind, playing Greensleeves on a carved bamboo flute as he perched in a tree. Those usually ended with him finishing the song, and had been chalked up as simply odd; he'd read the Dragon's Lance chronicles too many times, or something like that, and his subconscious was manifesting the material in his sleep. Had it ended at that, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.  
  
But the dreams had continued. One in particular that kept scaring him, shaking him out of sleep in absolute shock. Not terror, not a fear of any kind, but having had his perceptions badly shaken. It always started the same; him running through a cave, using some kind of claymore to fight off these wraiths that kept trying to stop him. Next, he'd found the cavern leading to a huge chamber, where some figure in black armor had been trying to fight off a wizard of some kind. The two had managed to kill the wizard, but then they tried fighting each other.  
  
The wizard came back for an instant, not quite dead, and tried to kill the black-armored man. He'd distracted him long enough to finish him off, but the man had collapsed, dead or unconscious, Trent didn't know.  
  
Then was the part that kept shaking him. Gripping the other man's sword alongside his own, he'd charged some kind of altar, and apparently killed Something Big to save these two elves. Odd, but it shouldn't have lasted.  
  
What frightened him (he'd admit it) about that dream wasn't that it was so real, or that he nearly died every time, or even that it kept reoccuring. What frightened him was the emotions. Normally, his dreams were attributed as the products of his own over-active imagination, nothing more. These were something else; he FELT for the women. He wasn't sure, but he had a disquieting feeling that in the dreams, he was in love with the two women, and it drove him to distraction. How could he love a figment of his own imagination? It wasn't possible.  
  
He looked up from his musings as the water started bubbling. Dragging himself out of his chair, he pulled down a mug and tea bag, letting it steep. He'd only recently started to actually enjoy drinking this odd stuff; green tea.  
  
Knowing it would take a few minutes to steep (he preferred it strong), and even longer before it would be at the desired temperature, he fell back into thought. About three weeks ago, new dreams had started; dreams of the same elf, but fighting a new opponent. Some weird blonde who glowed in the dark; literally, considering that his body looked like it was made out of neon yellow light while his body was surrounded by some kind of living darkness. Trent had used a spell of all things, to suck the guy into another world and kill him. Then he'd lingered just long enough for someone new to come, another woman with the strangest shade of pale lavender hair he'd ever seen. And once again, he'd felt honest to goodness love for her, confessed only in that instant of his death.  
  
This last week had been the worst; first had been all those dreams about dragons. The white-haired prince riding a bat-like white one, that ugly, green, brontosaurus-looking one, the red one the size of a 747, the gold one that fought the black one...and then the last two. One looked like someone had taken a panther's body, given it the scales, head, neck, and tail of a dragon, then added on graceful wings, and molded the whole thing from pure silver. The other...  
  
He shook his head. That last was just plain impossible. A creature CAN NOT grow that large and maintain homeostasis; it would have to eat a pod of whales a day just to stay alive.  
  
And now this. A merger of the two dreams of women he claimed to love.  
  
Deciding he needed the tea more than an unburnt tongue, he picked up the ceramic mug, taking a sip. Sighing as the hot, slightly bitter liquid started clearing the muzziness, he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.  
  
He was almost ready to go right out and find a decent psychiatrist, but he REALLY didn't want to waste his money on a guy who'd decide that he had unfulfilled passions regarding his mother, or that he was suppressing memories of being molested by his dog, or something equally deranged.  
  
He just wished he could understand; why now?  
  
--------  
  
He'd been awake for an hour and a half, just vegetating, when he finally brought himself to getting ready for the day. Muttering to himself about nothing in particular, he grabbed a towel and headed for the shower.  
  
He reflected on nothing in particular as he cleaned off; mostly speculation on who would attack who at school first today, followed by wonder as to what principle Todo would come up with to try and make school more interesting. He shook his head as he continued working the shampoo into his long, silver hair. He'd always heard that the Asian school systems were far more rigorous than those you could expect in other places, but Daimon was apparently an acception to the rule. To his knowledge, it was the only place where club membership was based on martial and combative skill rather than actual competence in the subject.  
  
Turning off the water, he wrung out the waist-length mass of white hair, grinning slightly in memory. The principle had been ready to sick the kendo club on him (claiming it to be a test of their accuracy to see who could successfully cut his hair while he ran without harming him) before he'd finally threatened to start a School Bagpipes Enthusiast Club. Todo was many things, but a complete fool he was not. He knew only too well how easily seemingly idiotic things like that would become popular at school, and the last thing he wanted was a bunch of amateur would-be bagpipe virtuosos serenading the rest of the school.  
  
Trent MacRae shook his head. He wasn't completely sure WHY he'd been sent to school half a planet away, but he reflected that Scotish teenagers in Japan were something of a rarity.  
  
He winced again as he came to his closet; pretty simple stuff, really. Two sets of school uniforms, and about a week's worth of casual clothing; mostly jeans and casual trousers with either t-shirts or button-down shirts. He didn't particularly mind a uniform; school back home had it to, after all, but he sincerely disliked the Japanese uniforms. Mostly because very few people bothered to cater to six foot one, tall and gangly.  
  
Finishing gathering his books and such, he stuffed them in the briefcase- like bookbag, tied back his hair in a ponytail, and headed for school, intent on trying to get there before one of the more non-combatant clubs decided he needed to join.  
  
--------  
  
Trent looked around for a moment, and shook his head sadly. "Every single day." Fumbling in his bookbag, he pulled out a wooden board; a half inch thick, roughly ten by fourteen inches. He paused as he watched Ryoko maim the ninjutsu club severely, then calmly brought the board up to catch an errant shuriken. Plucking the four-pointed throwing knife off the board, he tossed it to the side and started for the door.  
  
During his first week of school, he'd nearly been blinded by a mis-thrown, dart-like throwing knife. He'd managed to duck, but if he'd been half a second slower, they'd be calling him Patch. As such, he now took that little board with him every day for deflection of errant weaponry.  
  
"Hey, Trent!"  
  
He smiled as his current (and only) friend arrived. "Hey Kim. Anything new happen?"  
  
Kim was one of the only other transfer students who'd had the misfortune to end up in Daimon's precincts. Worse, he was a Korean; as Trent understood, the relations between the Japanese and Korean were kind of like the relationship you'd expect between Germany and Poland; the latter had spent a big part of their history being little more than a place to conveniently re-conquer when you needed to boost the economy. Nice guy though; he never let anyone get him mad, and had the sense to stay out of trouble with any given chance.  
  
It didn't hurt at all that he was also a member of one of the three clubs Trent had some membership in, namely the Hiking Club (they were currently trying to figure out ways to adapt steel-toe boots and mountaineering pickaxes into something useful in the school K-fight system).  
  
Kim shook his head. "Listen, something dangerous is coming up."  
  
Trent frowned. "How so?"  
  
The shorter Korean rolled his eyes. "Daisaku and the principle are worrying that Ryoko might be loosing her edge."  
  
Trent stared at Kim shortly, then turned calmly to regard the remains of the ninjutsu club, the fencing club (european as opposed to kendo) swiftly adding to their ranks of the wounded. "You call that loosing her edge?"  
  
"They figure that if she keeps having to fight wimps like this, she's going to get sloppy and careless. They think she needs a more challenging fighter to go up against."  
  
Trent shook his head. Kim was a member of the Hiking Club and the Tae Kwon Do club; a decent fighter, but not in the 'heavy hitters' league. Actually, no one in the hiking club was. Trent on the other hand was a member of the Hiking Club, the Kyudo (archery) club, and the Kendo club, in that order. "Kim, I watch Ryoko practice twice a week. Her definition of a light work-out is beating the rest of us into a moaning pulp. That girl's so conditioned to train in swordplay and combat that she's going to need gene therapy to get comfortable with the CONCEPT of losing her edge."  
  
Kim shrugged helplessly. "I agree, but you know how Todo is. If the fights don't get more exciting for him, he finds out new ways to MAKE them interesting. Just to warn you." He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh yeah, one other thing. We're getting three new students today; three sophomores." He smiled. "One of them's quite the hotty."  
  
Trent shook his head, chuckling lightly. "Keep looking. Who knows, someday you might find one who cares enough to actually concede to going out with you."  
  
Kim winced comically. "Low blow."  
  
Trent just smiled. So he had weird dreams. The rest of his life seemed to be going pretty nicely.  
  
--------  
  
Yuzuriha looked around. She'd grown up mostly around the shrine, and for the most part wasn't all that used to having to deal with large groups of new people. Still, she could get all kinds of friends here. With all the unusual people here, who knew? Maybe she'd finally find someone with...sensitivity.  
  
She smiled briefly down at Inuki. She wondered how he'd deal with the new classes. At her old school he'd just sleep through them, sometimes going off to have a quick run on his own, but with all the fights here, sleeping would probably be a little bit harder.  
  
The principle stood at the podium. Odd man; she couldn't decide if he looked more like a retired mob-boss or a prize fighter. Considering what she'd heard about him, either one might be correct.  
  
Turning back, she took aen you needd at her three fellow transfer students. Both were boys, but they didn't really look all that similar. The one on her left had an insufferably bored look on his face, as though the entire world at large was beneath him. Although considering that he was pretty cute, maybe he'd let that go to his head. Deep down, he might be a decent guy; she'd have to wait and see.  
  
The boy on her left looked MUCH nicer. He wasn't quite as cute, but he was getting there. Somewhat taller, his haircut was a pretty simple thing, his face open and honest. All in all, looked to her like a chronic nice guy. She wondered what there names were.  
  
Todo smiled as he walked over. Once this introduction was over, he had a simply WONDERFUL announcement. "Hello everyone. We have several announcements to get out of the way. First of all, we have a number of new arrivals; three new students, and a new addition to our teaching staff." He gestured for each to introduce themselves.  
  
The boy on her left stepped forward, smiling pleasantly. "Amaru Ryudo. Nice to meet you."  
  
Yuzuriha skipped forward, giving a slight bow as she greeted her new school. "Yuzuriha Nekoi, age 16. Pleased to meet you."  
  
The last simply glanced up, though he did take the effort to wipe the contempt off his face. "Kamui Shiro."  
  
The priestess in training stiffened somewhat.   
  
Todo stepped forward again. "Oddly enough, our teaching assistant is from one of our student's families." Again, the bow and gesture for introduction.  
  
Yuzuriha looked back up; Kamui struck her as being pretty easy to pick out of a crowd, so she'd probably be able to find him later. If he was 'the' Kamui, at least. Besides, she probably needed to be able to find out who the teachers were.  
  
She was glad she had in a few moments. The teacher to stand proved to be breath-takingly handsome, in a more mature way. He bowed formally, with a pleasant smile. "Hajime Ryudo. I'll be teaching business and history, as well as helping out in the Kendo Club."  
  
Todo nodded as Hajime sat down. "And lastly, I have a rather...interesting announcement regarding the club funding situation." He waited for the murmurs to die down somewhat. "First, it has come to my attention that the K-fight system established by the missing Mr. Kusanagi has been proving to be a bit...monotonous. More to the point," he added, emotion starting to swell in his words, "the challengers of our current champion, Miss Ryoko Mitsurugi..."  
  
In the audience, the red-headed samurai girl winced. She was starting to get irritated with all the fight challenges; at least the ones that weren't actual work-outs.  
  
Todo continued. "...have lost the spirit of the K-fight. It has simply become some ridiculous exercise to see which club finally produces someone who can defeat the kendo club. As such, a new motivation is needed." He pumped a fist in the air as he yanked the microphone from its stand. "So now hear this! After school today, there will be a gigantic K-fight, tournament style! Any and all challengers welcome! And to the winnner..." he paused dramatically, "...TEN TIMES THE FUNDING AS ANY OTHER CLUB! AND THE FIGHTER HIMSELF RECEIVES A FULLY PAID, ONE WEEK CARIBBEAN CRUISE FOR TWO!"  
  
Yuzuriha felt herself sweat-drop at the roars. The school was fully as weird as the rumors had said. Shaking her head, she thought at Inuki,   
  
In the audience, Kim grinned at Trent. "Told you she was a hotty."  
  
Trent frowned in thought. She WAS pretty cute; still, there were some things that seemed confusing. "Is she blind or something?"  
  
Kim paused in his cheering to stare at his friend in confusion. "Blind? What the hell brought that up?"  
  
Trent looked up, and blinked in confusion. "Oh, sorry. Thought I saw something up there next to her. My mistake." Still shrugging, he turned to leave. Neither the Kendo Club nor the Kyudo club would need him; he was considered the fifth worst in Kendo, although in archery he was one of the best. Still, archery itself wouldn't be all that useful, and the captain also studied naginata. He shook his head; only in Daimon did you have blackbelts as a requirement for leadership.  
  
The Hiking Club wasn't going to be getting much out of this mess.  
  
Ignoring the sudden chill that accompanied that thought, he exited the auditorium. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake.  
  
--------  
  
"Please, Trent?"  
  
The scot stared at the fifteen or so members of his favorite club. "Please tell me this is some kind of crude joke. Or an assassination attempt of some kind. Just DON'T tell me you're doing this because you're serious." Kim winced as he continued pleading. "Trent, you're our only hope; you HAVE to represent us in this tournament."  
  
The white-haired senior looked at them for a few moments, then calmly walked over to the nearest wall and started thumping his head against it, half in jest, half in earnest. After a good thirty seconds of this, he looked back. Sighing, he sank to one of the nearby comfortable rocks. Considering their subject, the club had chosen to meet outdoors in the woods at the edge of campus. "Let me get this straight. Our rather openly non-combative club has decided that the chance for ten times the normal funding was too good to pass up. As such, rather than doing the sane thing and simply figuring out the best way to spend our regular funding, you've decided to actually fight in this K-tournament. And for reasons that as yet make no sense, have elected ME our lovely little sacrificial lamb. Do I have everything covered?"  
  
Nods accompanied that. "Yeah." "Pretty much." "You can do it."  
  
Trent groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why, precisely, do you think I'm the best choice? Why not Kim?"  
  
Kim spoke up without hesitation. "You're better than I am; I'm pretty low ranked in the tae kwon do club, and you've seen how often the captain gets his clock cleaned by Mitsurugi. You at least have some experience with her."  
  
Trent scoffed. "Experience? Yeah, experience getting pounded into the ground like a tent stake. Honestly, why me? Getting rid of the gaijin?"  
  
Kim's pleading look was replaced by faint anger. "That was unnecessary, you know."  
  
Trent sighed. "I know, I know, sorry. It's just, I'm NOT very happy about this. I mean, I'm barely ranked in kendo in the first place, my archery skills are going to do me squat, and the best I can hope for in this fight is that Ryoko decides to take mercy on me and knocks me out before she can cause any serious pain. How ELSE am I supposed to react to this?"  
  
Kim slung a companionable arm around his shoulders. "It could be worse; at least this way, your bravery in the face of utter defeat might FINALLY score you a girlfriend."  
  
Trent rolled his eyes. "Near death that might make me popular? You have GOT to get your priorities straight."  
  
Kim just grinned. His best friend was straight, he knew that much. He just seemed to suffer from a constant belief that women weren't ever interested. He needed to change that.  
  
[Having written that (and knowing some things you don't), the Author collapses at his computer in a fit of utter hysterics.]  
  
--------  
  
The Tae Kwon Do team had been slaughtered. The Karate team was currently in transit to the nurse's office. The Rugby team had tried using human wall techniques on her, and had found that she was surprisingly good at cutting down walls.  
  
And so it continued. Kyudo, Muay Thai, Tai Chi, Wushu, Boxing, Drunken Boxing, Hapkido, Jeet Kun Do, Soccer, Bowling...the clubs rose in defiance and were calmly beaten within an inch of their lives.  
  
Trent shook his head remorsefully. "How many teams are their left?"  
  
Kim winced as the sumo captain was launched out of the ring. "Just us and the Flower Arrangement Club."  
  
Trent shuddered. When he'd first arrived, he'd considered asking out Azumi Kirabiyashi out. She'd shot him down mercifully, resulting in a mope that had lasted for weeks. THEN he'd found out that she was some kind of freaking lunatic, Mad Noblewoman Laugh (TM) and all.  
  
He'd gotten better with surprising speed.  
  
Standing, he hefted his weapon of choice. "Well, may as well get this out of the way. I don't think I'd forgive myself if I beat Ryoko AFTER Azumi got through with her." Shouldering his way through the rings, he approached the only surviving team.  
  
Azumi smiled beautifically as she prepared her entrance, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Excuse me, Miss Kirabiyashi? Do you mind if I go before you?"  
  
She blinked in surprise, for all that her smile never wavered. She'd been planning to be the last anyway, so she had no objections. Turning, she paused, looking up somewhat until she reached the taller man's face. "Oh...MacRae, isn't it?" Trent nodded. "I sincerely doubt this will take long, so if you don't mind?"  
  
Azumi sweeped a mocking bow at the carefully polite young man. "Go right ahead."  
  
Sighing in both relief and resignation (he wouldn't have minded quite that much if Azumi had refused to let him go), he turned to the ring.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
He paused, turning at the voice. Surprise was evident on his face as he noticed the new girl. "Oh...Um, I feel kind of bad, but what was your name? I can never seem to remember them."  
  
Yuzuriha grinned. "Yuzuriha Nekoi. Good luck."  
  
Trent blink-blinked in confusion, then allowed a rueful smile across his lips. he thought. "Thanks. Let's hope that it's good enough." Gripping the elastic cords, he was about to swing in when a thought came to him. "Nekoi means cat, right?" At her nod, he shook his head. "It doesn't really suit you; are you sure you aren't Inu, or something?" Not waiting for an answer, he levered himself into the ring.  
  
"Well, well, I was right," came a voice from behind her.  
  
Startled, Yuzuriha spun to spy the slightly taller boy. "Excuse me?"  
  
Kim just grinned winsomely. "Kim Dong Hwan. Trent's a friend of mine."  
  
Yuzuriha nodded distractedly, turning back to watch the fight. She felt excitement build in her. Maybe...  
  
--------  
  
Ryoko stared. "Huh? Don't I know you?"  
  
Trent nodded tiredly. "Trent MacRae, senior. We've fought before in practice."  
  
Ryoko stared at him, sweat-dropping. "Why are you here; aren't you already in the kendo club?"  
  
Trent sighed, tapping his sword against a shoulder. "Not all that seriously; I'm representing the hiking club."  
  
Ryoko's sweat-drop turned into several smaller ones. "Uh...I didn't know there WAS a hiking club."  
  
Trent shrugged helplessly. "No surprise; we don't start fights very often. I STILL don't understand why I'm here."  
  
Ryoko shook her head. "Well, let's get this over with then." She didn't mind fighting, but against someone who was little challenge wasn't going to be any real challenge (1), what was the point. She took her own stance, but paused. "Uh...what's that thing?"  
  
Trent regarded the one inch thick four foot dowel rod in his hand. "Hmmm? Oh, I thought I'd try something new." Not bothering with further speech, he decided to save his breath for the eventual mad dodging sure to occur. He took his own stance; two hands on the sword, tip pointing at his opponent, haft and hands on the right side of his face. A perfect stance for stabbing and rushes. Ironic really, considering that he was bound and determined to fight defensively.  
  
--------  
  
Hajime slouched against the doorway, watching the fight. He wasn't too terribly impressed with his students; they all seemed more interested in either dating him (in the case of some of the more guy-hungry female populace) or defeating him in brutal hand-to-hand combat.  
  
The dates he could understand; guys like him (mature, poised, and not overtly homicidal) didn't seem like they'd be that common around here. He still wasn't quite sure why all the assaults.  
  
Still, while he took pride in teaching, that wasn't his real purpose here; he was there to find the Fourth. Tsuzuku's powers had been giving him more and clearer information as they got closer. At first they'd only known to look for someone who WASN'T asian. Then they'd realized that it meant a gaijin somewhere in Asia. As they'd gotten closer, it got more narrowly defined. European, rather than American, Australian, or perhaps Russian. That got things a bit easier still. Then they were told to search Japan. And finally, Tokyo.  
  
Now they were in Tokyo, and the parameters were about as clear as they were likely to get.  
  
Hajime just hoped that Fungsahn remembered his dignity soon, otherwise this fight would be pretty boring.  
  
--------  
  
Trent forced himself to stand his ground as Ryoko charged in for an overhead strike. At the last minute, he ducked and pivoted out of the way, his longer sword swinging in a full circle to slash at her legs. Seemingly startled, Ryoko quickly dove over his slower attack to land back on her feet and charge again.  
  
Realizing that an almost-on-the-ground position was very bad when fighting someone who liked to use downward strokes hard enough to shatter rock, Trent leapt to his feet, abandoning his earlier stance to set his bokken up in front of him defensively. Through a combination of almost drunken- looking dodges, desperate counter-strikes, and jumping backwards in a frantic attempt to stay out of the smaller girl's reach, Trent was able to avoid getting hit even once.  
  
Panting as he fell back, he was torn between apprehension of her next assault and a sense of wonder that he'd lasted through the first ten seconds. Switching his sword to a vertical guard at the side of his head, he decided on a whim to actually see how an assault went against her.  
  
He shot forward, his sword in a vertical cut that she easily met and blocked. Their swords set against each other, she smiled at him through the blades. It was getting to be more fun than she'd expected; he was better with this long sword than he was a standard bokken. The grin turned to startlement as Trent lowered his center of gravity and shoved forcefully forward, throwing her off balance.  
  
Realizing that he probably wouldn't get another chance at this, he again slipped back to his original thrusting stance, his feet sliding forward as he thrust at her.  
  
Unfortunately, Ryoko wasn't just arbitrarily called the best fighter at Daimon; she'd EARNED the title. By the time Trent had started his new attack she'd already regained her balance, blocking his thrust to the side and bringing her own sword at Trent in a vicious overhand blow.  
  
The scot belated realized his gaff. Trying to shift from forward to backwards motion instantly, he brought his sword back, grabbing it further along its length, using it to block as though he were fighting with a short bo or cane instead of a sword. Not even remotely set for the attack, he staggered under the force of her strike, falling to the ground. Managing to turn it into a clumsy roll, he spun his legs at her in an on-the-spot attempt at the technique he'd watched members of the Capoirea club used. He had considerable lower body strength, and most of his height came from his legs. It wasn't particularly clean, but it was JUST impressive enough to make Ryoko dance back long enough for Trent to get back on his feet. Rather than attack immediately however, his opponent chose to just stand there, assessing him. Glad for the short respite, Trent just stared right back at her.  
  
Okay, resource check. Advantages: greater physical strength in terms of sheer lifting power, greater reach in just body, greater reach of weapon. None of which would do him any good against an opponent who was faster and who while weaker, could actually hit harder than he could. While he could have theoretically used his reach to keep her at arms length and tried to pick her apart with a sword, he didn't HAVE a real sword, and he'd need to get in one solid blow if he was going to have any chance of winning.  
  
He paused as he noticed the new teacher standing in the back, a look of fierce attention to the fight in his eyes. Strange eyes. Glittered...with strange lights...strange menace...air of command...  
  
For her part, Ryoko's estimation of her opponent was going up by leaps and bounds. When they'd fought in practice, it had been under the fairly strict rules and straight-forward forms of kendo. Here, he wasn't limiting himself to any rules of any kind; he had no problem trying to hamstring her early, and he wasn't limiting himself to sword-work. So while he was apparently a mediocre if not bad kendoist (and considering that it was by Daimon High's standards she was measuring him, he was probably better elsewhere), he was actually a better FIGHTER, at least in the ring of a K- fight. She smiled, and setting herself, charged.  
  
Trent blinked back in confusion. The teacher's eyes had been...strange, to say the least. He'd felt like they were trying to reach into him and pull out...something. It was so odd; they felt like 1000 watt lights flaring on his face. He frowned as he heard some kind of dull roaring in his ears. Returning his attention to the fight, he was startled to see Ryoko charge him as though in slow motion. What was stranger was that she had nearly hit him, and somehow his body had taken over completely. He'd snapped his sword up to deflect her strike to the side, and in the same motion was bringing the blade of his weapon around to strike as she charged.  
  
His attention snapped into focus as he realized in some horror that he had instinctively aimed for the spot on her neck where a man's adam's apple would have bulged; his subconscious was trying to crush her larynx. Eyes widening in shock, he yanked the sword out of the way, spinning to get out of her path.  
  
Ryoko had seen the strike from he rown vantage speed; it was as though Trent had abruptly gotten almost three times as fast as her, blocked, and set up for a kill strike in a single motion. He'd aborted it, but it still shook her severely enough that she lost some of her balance as she spun wildly to face him again. Trent frowned slightly as Ryoko charged. It was like he was drunk or something; at least that would have been his assumption (he was allergic to alcohol; not something considered particularly fun by his fellow Scots). As she'd shot past him, it had been at what he would have considered normal speed, but now as she spun to face him, she was slowing down again. Deciding not to question the strangeness, Trent decided to let his subconscious take over again, but fixed it firmly in his mind that he wanted to beat her, NOT kill or seriously injure.  
  
Taking this into consideration, his subconscious mind accelerated him at stunning speed as he attacked. Spinning twice as he approached, he accelerated once more as he reached Ryoko, his make-shift sword meeting hers with a sold THWACK! powerful enough to send her flying into the ring's confining bands.  
  
Ryoko gasped in shock at the force of impact. NO ONE hit her that hard. Instinct and well-honed reflexes had been enough to keep her sword in front of her, her hands still firmly gripped around the haft, but that was about it. The only reason she didn't loose right then and there was that Trent wasn't counter-attacking.  
  
For his part, the scottish swordsman was blinking owlishly, shaking his head lightly. He was feeling kind of dizzy, slightly feverish. He could have attributed it to the school lunch, but he somewhat doubted it. He had a sinking feeling that the source of his current skill and instincts, as well as the troubling dreams of the past month and a half, were contributing in different ways to his current malaise.  
  
As such, he was barely able to sway partially out of the way as Ryoko attacked all out, her attack of choice a vicious stab.  
  
Had it connected, it likely would have crushed his ribs, possibly even caving in a lung (he wasn't Shizuma; HE couldn't absorb blows with the same force and momentum as a speeding eighteen-wheel truck and live to tell about it). With the spin he'd put on the attack, he managed to survive the strike, taking it where arm met shoulder.  
  
Through a combination of the pain and the strange sense of malaise that had slowed him down so badly, he lost consciousness almost instantly. Lucky to, as the pain he would have felt from his newly dislocated shoulder would likely have set him howling in agony on the floor.  
  
In the stands below, Yuzuriha felt a stab of sympathy for the boy; it was kind of obvious that his arm wasn't supposed to bend like that. Though no small part of her concern lay with the fact that an injury like that might have something to do with his quip about how her name should have meant 'dog.'  
  
Hajime smiled slightly.   
  
Further up in the audience, two other figures were watching the match; one a solemn if attractive young woman looking to be about seventeen years old. She was dressed in the uniform of a highschool girl; sailor-style seifuku, but it looked wrong on her. She had a classical beauty and statuesque quality that made her look as though hakama or a yukata would have been more suitable.  
  
Her companion was a tall, somewhat muscular young man, equally serious- faced. Blond, he scowled as he watched those below him. "(blue dragon) Gakkei seems rather interested in him."  
  
Arashi nodded. "I do not think him to be the one that we search for, but perhaps the Ryudo brothers have found their target?"  
  
Daisuke snorted. "I don't think so, but I'll make sure."  
  
Arashi frowned at him. "Is that wise? Considering his current injury, such an attack could well kill him."  
  
Daisuke shrugged. "I won't if I don't have to, but we have to know."  
  
Arashi sighed. "Daisuke, I'm aware of your grief with the Kings, but don't do anything rash. If Hajime is wrong, don't do anything foolish." She turned to leave. "We have our own last to find."  
  
--------  
  
"Finally awake?"  
  
The sound of a careful baritone voice was the first thing Trent noticed. The second was the stabbing ache in his shoulder. Carefully favoring his left arm, he raised himself out of bed. He frowned across the bed. "Fuma? What are you doing here?"  
  
He didn't even bother to shrug. "I'm on infirmary duty this week. Feeling better?"  
  
Trent winced as he slowly swung his legs around the cot. "All things considered, I guess. I passed out; how badly was I actually injured?"  
  
"Dislocated shoulder," Fuma replied. "The nurse reset it, but warned that it would still probably ache for a week or so. Though she did mention something about not trying any Houdini's."  
  
Trent smiled in relief. "Really? Better than I'd hoped for."  
  
Fuma cocked his head to the side in slight curiousity. "What did she mean by that?"  
  
Trent chuckled dryly as he noticed his 'claymore' set next to his bookbag. "Houdini was a famous escape artist. According to urban myth, he did it by dislocating joints. What she's saying is not to try it; I hope that means that the dislocation should reset as good as original, and that it won't pop out again."  
  
Fuma looked at him calmly, then nodded. "Will you be able to get home on your own?"  
  
Trent nodded, easing himself up completely. "I should be." Still favoring his left arm, he looped the ties of his sword carrier through the handle of his bookbag and swung it over his shoulder. "Thanks for staying."  
  
Fuma just nodded as he collected his own things to leave. "It was nothing."  
  
Trent didn't bother trying for further conversation as they walked towards their seperate homes. The Togakushi Shrine Fuma lived at was in the same vague direction as Trent's apartment, so they ended up walking alongside each other for a few blocks. After a while though, they parted as Trent turned into the less picturesque areas of town. He'd been walking for almost half an hour before anything happened.  
  
He paused as he noticed the guy wearing the military-style high school uniform in front of him, staring unblinkingly at him. Looking around slowly to check his surroundings and finding no one else, he turned to the tall blonde. "Did you need something?"  
  
Daisuke pushed away from the wall to walk closer. Slowly walking around the white-haired scot, he began examining him slowly, as though looking for weak points. Trent COULD have felt offended and that he was being challenged, but his fairly well-honed instinct for social (and other forms) of survival was screaming at him "DON'T PROVOKE!"  
  
Daisuke finally finished, shaking his head. "You seem pretty ordinary to me." Trent sweat-dropped. "Uh...so I've been told. I always kind of thought I acted kind of strangely."  
  
Daisuke snorted in disdain. "What could they see in you? Is it the white hair? If THAT'S all that matters, what's the point?"  
  
Trent continued to look at him for a solid minute of silence. Finally, he spoke. "Okay, I'm getting confused. What the bleep is this about?"  
  
Daisuke paused (he was wondering why Trent had actually said 'bleep' instead of a real curse word). "You actually don't know?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, he let it out. "No, not particularly. I have no clue who you are, who 'they' are, and why the fact that I have white hair should make any kind of difference. What, are 'they' a modeling agency or something trying to cater to the 'mature' crowd and think gray hair makes me look older? What?"  
  
Daisuke smiled grimly. "I don't think you'll find out. The thing is, most of the time it's the ones who seem pretty ordinary that end up in the shoes of giants."  
  
"That's 'stood on the shoulders of giants,'" Trent corrected. "Issac Newton said that about his accomplishments, that the only reason he'd been the one to find all that stuff out was that he had 'stood on the shoulders of giants,' meaning people like Galileo, Da Vinci, and Pythagoras."  
  
Daisuke's smile faded. "The point is, you don't look like much to me. Still, you might be what they need, so I suppose it's up to me to try and find out for sure." Raising a hand, he did SOMETHING, somehow causing the wind to swirl around his hand in an eighteen inch ring. "So let's try and find out."  
  
Trent wasn't quite sure what it was that prompted him (other than the fact that ordinary guys don't usually start making wind sculptures in front of you), but he dove to his right, dropping wooden sword and book bag to get the HOOT (hell out of there). It proved to be the most intelligent move as Daisuke made a kind of clawing gesture at him, sending some kind of cutting burst at him.  
  
Trent had seen Ryoko use something like that once when she'd fought Shizuma, but hers hadn't cut steel as smooth as a laser. Wishing fervently he still had the full use of both arms (mainly as he could dodge and roll a LOT better with a second arm), he headed for the nearest alley at a dead run. The same prickle he'd felt earlier returned, and acting on something he didn't quite understand, he jumped into the air, turning his body sideways. Again, an excellent move as two Wind Razors shot past him, one at what would have been head height, the other level with his calves.  
  
Unfortunately, he'd jumped in such a way that he was falling towards his left side. He desperately twisted in the air, and managed to get enough that rather than taking his full body weight on his still-aching left shoulder, he was able to catch himself on both arms. Still, it proved to be too much as his arm collapsed under him.  
  
"What. the. hell. are. you. doing."  
  
Daisuke turned to the cold, angry voice just as some kind of wave of force slammed him into a brick wall. He groaned as he lay there, embedded in the red stone. "You..."  
  
Hajime sheathed his sword. "I don't know why you're doing this. And quite frankly, I don't care. Attack this man again, and you die."  
  
Trent tried to play dead on the pavement. There was something...compelling about Hajime's voice. It gave him a bad case of the chills; he didn't doubt for a second that he would go through with his threat.  
  
Hajime smiled wanly as he somehow made the sword disappear. "I know you're still conscious; it would take more than that to knock you out." Getting no answer, he sighed tiredly. "Listen, what if I told you that I can answer at least SOME of the questions you have? Namely, why this fool attacked you? Would you be willing to listen?"  
  
Trent winced, but got up. "I was kind of hoping I was more convincing."Hajime shrugged. "It would have been a convincing act for anyone but you. I know you too well; you wouldn't let something as piddling as that stop you, particularly not a wind attack. You're better than him."  
  
Trent winced as he rose to his feet. "Thank you for adding to the question list. I met you today when you introduced yourself to the whole school, and this is the first time we met. So how precisely do you know me?"  
  
Hajime smiled. "Follow me. There is a LOT you don't know, and need to learn."  
  
To be continued...  
  
(1) - That's what's called, 'fore-shadowing.' It can also be referred to as a dramatic irony.  
  
Author's Notes: Hoo boy. Well, Trent seems to be attracting all KINDS of new problems, not the least of which is the 'fairer gender.' Don't ask about his love life, I have no intention of teling that for a LONG time. As for his powers, or who those three are, I reccomend pasting the address to your browser. Not many people I know have even HEARD of Sohryuden, but I think it's a cool series, and dragon based, so appropriate for Trent. 


	3. Chapter Two: Price for Truth

Chapter Two Price for Truth  
  
Trent paused as he looked around. "Listen, I really hope that this doesn't seem rude. I mean, you did kind of save my life, and I'm not trying to be ungrateful. That, and you agreed to tell me what's going on, WHY precisely that lunatic was trying to kill me. But...why here?"  
  
Hajime looked up from his menu. "Hmmm? Oh, I just got a paycheck last week, so I felt that I should use it. And this is a bit of a celebration after all. And I've always heard that if possible, a person should eat at Bali-Bali's in Tokyo."  
  
Trent sighed again as the elder Ryudo continued ordering. "And thus does my head REALLY start to hurt." He turned to the rest of the table. "Okay, I remember hearing at the assembly that you're name's Amaru Ryudo, so I can understand you. But why are you here?"  
  
Yuzuriha coughed nervously. "Um...I'm kind of just here to find out what's going on. I recognized that guy who attacked you, and I figured I should know why he did it."  
  
"Gotcha. And lastly, who are YOU?"  
  
The last one smiled. It wasn't intentional, but doing so managed to make the ladies three tables away sigh wistfully, draw side-long glances from the two older women further back, and caused one of the waitresses to almost trip over herself. "Tsuzuku Ryudo, age nineteen. I'm the middle brother; I'm in college right now." He sipped at his water. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, this has to do not just with you and whoever Miss Nekoi is affiliated with, but the Ryudo family as well."  
  
Trent shook his head. "Ryudo. You're family got lucky; not many people can boast to have a name that means 'Way of the Dragon.'"  
  
Tsuzuku's pleasant smile returned. "Nor boast to being a part of one of the most respected Clans of all Scotland."  
  
THAT took Trent aback. "You've heard of us?"  
  
Tsuzuku sipped again. "Your clan began in 1386, when Maurice MacRath killed a member of the Fitzgerald clan in Ireland. He later fled to Scotland, and managed quite handily to save Lord Bisset of Lovat. As a direct result, the MacRae clan establishes its reputation for skills of protection, serving Bisset in Clunes. Later, John MacRae killed the lord's bastard son. While the lord didn't particularly mind, he still felt it his duty to punish John. Rather than having him executed, he banished John. He later resettled in Kintail, and began the MacRae's long period of service to the MacKenzie Clan, beginning under Lord Seaforth."  
  
Trent stared for a good long time. He finally asked, "how do you know all that? What, you just happened to be studying British history in college or something?"  
  
Tsuzuku just smiled as Trent descended into deeper thought. "I think you'd be surprised what I know, Trent."  
  
"Nengmien?" Amaru broke in.  
  
Trent started. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Hajime looked up. "We're almost done ordering; cold noodles to finish the meal?"  
  
Trent blinked, then shook his head. "Just rice. I've tried nengmien before, and the consistency and texture just didn't agree with me. Just...wrong, really." As Hajime signalled the end of their order, Trent leaned forward. "Alright, I realize that hospitality is very important to the Japanese. It is to the Scottish too. Still, I think I've been remarkably patient for someone who's just had someone make an attempt on their life. So would you mind explaining what the bleep is going on?"  
  
Hajime exchanged a glance with Tsuzuku. Taking it as a hint, the younger Ryudo began. "Our story begins a VERY long time ago; almost exactly three thousand years ago, to be precise." He leaned back in his chair. "At the time, our ancestors were...well, let's just say, they weren't human."  
  
"Ah, Christ."  
  
Tsuzuku fixed him with a frank look. "This from a man who regularly watches the students at his school generating earthquakes, vaccuum air blades, and summoning giant animals made of chi-based fire?"  
  
Trent winced. "Point taken. What exactly were your ancestors?"  
  
Tsuzuku's face became quickly serious. "We are the descendants of the Go clan. They were dragons."  
  
Trent took a look at the dead seriousness of the three brothers's faces, then compared it to the believing surprise on Yuzuriha's face. Looking at her, he frowned in thought. Ignoring it for the time, he turned back. "Go on."  
  
Tsuzuku leaned forward, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Three thousand years ago, their was a coup, of a sort in heaven. You see, there was another clan; the Gyushu, or Bulls. We'd been in opposition for quite a long time, and it simply came to a head. That, and the emperor at the time decided that he didn't completely trust our ancestors. So a challenge was issued; I'm not completely clear on the details. All I know is that the Gyushu and the Go engaged in combat. If the Gyushu lost, they would be banished to the west while the Go descended to earth to safe-guard the eastern half of the world. If the Go lost, the entire clan would be destroyed."  
  
Trent shook his head. "Short end of the stick, huh?"  
  
Tsuzuku shrugged. "Perhaps. From what I DO know, the head of our family at the time only agreed to the challenge because the empress, a prescient, told him that a time would come in which the presence of the Go on earth would be necessary. Anyway, as my brothers and I obviously survived, the Gyushu lost, and were banished to the western hemisphere." Trent nodded. "Interesting story, but what does this have to do with me? For that matter, what does a fight between two divine clans over three thousand years ago have to do with me?"  
  
Tsuzuku smiled. "When the Go descended to earth, they lost their immortality. They retained the divine draconic strengths, but they could die of old age and be killed. And understandably, they died. However, a few of them reincarnated."  
  
Trent looked at him tiredly, leaning on one arm. "Let me guess; three of them?"  
  
Hajime took over at that point. "If you're asking if my brothers and I are, then yes. Once every millenium, the children of the Go family return to the living world. I am The Blue Dragon, King of the East. Tsuzuku is the Red Dragon, King of the South. Amaru is the Black Dragon, King of the North." He turned to accept the trays of meat from their waitress. "But something strange has happened; the last king is missing; he wasn't born to our family."  
  
"You mean a fourth king?" Trent asked  
  
Hajime nodded his head. "The number rankings aren't based on our order of birth or age; they were true, but that's a secondary concern. The number of the king is actually based on their rank in the courts of the Emperor and of the Go family themselves. We've been looking for the White Dragon, King of the West for the past two years."  
  
Trent idly snared some of the galbi, wrapping in lettuce with garlic. "So what does any of this have to do with me? Did some mad scientist find him and lock the information of where he is in my head or something?" Hajime continued to stare at him levelly. "Something a bit less out-of-the- ordinary, actually. The more predictable thing, in fact."  
  
Trent paused. Bringing the lettuce roll to his mouth, he calmly ate it, swallowing before he faced them. "If you're going to tell me that someone decided it would be a great cosmic joke to reincarnate a three thousand year old 'white dragon king' in the body of an eighteen year old Scottish transfer student to Japan, then I sincerely hope that that you can come up with some REALLY impressive evidenceto back it up."  
  
Amaru frowned in confusion. "Why on earth would we make something like that up?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Why does a galaxy spin the way it does? Just because I don't see the reason doesn't mean it's not there." He stood up to leave.  
  
"You're not comfortable around other people," Tsuzuku remarked.  
  
"Brilliant, Holmes."  
  
Tsuzuku smiled faintly. "Yes, that IS something rather well known about you, isn't it? How about some things a little less well known?"  
  
Trent turned at the door to look back. "I don't suppose that being a 'dragon king' would have anything to do with a pair of elves and goddesses of destruction, would it? No, I thought not."  
  
Tsuzuku exchanged a somewhat puzzled look with Amaru, but chose not to address the odd question. "You like the wind, don't you? Your favorite weather in the world is when it gets somewhat cold; fall weather, with a bright sun, clouds in the sky, and a brisk, cold wind in the air. YOu've hiked up and down hills, for no purpose other than to stand on their tops and feel the wind rustling through your hair. You feel strange when you're alone in places like that; like you can hear voices, like all the sounds of the world are trying to tell you something you can't quite make out."  
  
Trent hadn't left; he'd wanted to hear Tsuzuku's answer. "Okay, now that's just kind fo creepy."  
  
Tsuzuku smiled. "Fungsahn was notorious for hating the intrigues of teh court; he chose to spend the vast majority of his time alone in the mountains of Tibet or on the Mongolian plains, where he could just listen to the sound of the air. Do you still believe that we're wrong?"  
  
"Rather fervently," Trent replied. "I don't know HOW you know about my favorite kind of weather, but if I'm supposed to take that to mean that somehow I'm actually some kind of dragon, then your definition of 'convincing' is rather far from mine." He turned to walk out again.  
  
"Not when you take into consideration some of those dreams of yours," Hajime called back. "Just about every person on the planet dreams about flying at some point. How many do you think dream about being gigantic lizards?"  
  
Again, Trent paused at the door before turning back. "Okay, now I'm starting to get disturbed. Maybe you're stalkers. The problem with that though, is that I've never told anyone about those dreams. I haven't even talked to myself about them, so where could you have heard it? I don't write about my dreams either."  
  
Hajime slipped his hand into a coat pocket, producing an odd-looking pen. It was obviously expensive; the metal-work had been done in what looked like platinum, the barrel of the pen itself carved out of seamless, flawless lapis-lazuli. Abruptly, it became burning white light, elongating into a four-foot length of slightly curved lapis-lazuli, marked all over with depictions of serpentine oriental dragons. Trent stared in open shock; he was used to seeing insane levels of martial arts. Shape-shifting weaponry was a bit farther away from his normal day. "Okay, that's new."  
  
Hajime grasped one end, pulling it open to reveal the first three inches of a watered steel blade. He sheathed it almost immediately, returning it to its pen-shape before he spoke. "This is the Sword of the Blue Dragon King. It's the symbol of my power and rank as the Head of the Ryudo Clan, heir to the Blue Dragon King. It's also what awakened my powers roughly four years ago."  
  
Tsuzuku pulled out a small notepad which began changing in a similar light show. It ended up being a large book, roughly ten by fourteen inches, probably four hundred pages long. The cover was tanned leather stained red, fixtures of gold set at each corner of the cover. The same images of dragons were set on it; along the spine mainly, though in the center of the cover had been set a strange design that looked as though four dragons had been bent into some kind of spiral. "This is my treasure; the Tome of the Red Dragon. Amarus's is the Staff. And we have the last treasure as well, the one that Fungsahn is meant to have."  
  
Trent shook his head. "I still don't get it; what does this have to do with me?"  
  
Hajime sighed. "The treasure is the key. Call it an artifact if you'd rather, but it remains our way of checking. If anyone other than the White Dragon, King of the West were to touch it, nothing would happen. If they tried to steal it, it would return to Amaru, as his duty is to guard our clan's treasures. But if the one who was reincarnated touches it, the sleeping dragon wakes up."  
  
Trent shook his head. "If you're asking me to come and touch this whatever- it-is, forget it. I came here because I thought you could tell me why some highschool maniac was flinging wind razors at me, and I find out it's because the three of you think I MIGHT be some long-lost relative from another life. Why precisely should I feel grateful?"  
  
Yuzuriha winced. "Please, don't blame Daisuke. He's not a bad person, he just takes his duties too seriously."  
  
"And those duties include random murder?"  
  
"His duty," Yuzuriha hastened to reassure, "is to protect Hinoto. I'm not saying he was right and that you're a threat, but he doesn't want to dare take any chances."  
  
Trent rolled his eyes. "Great. Kill me on the off-chance I MIGHT become a problem later. And I'm supposed to like this guy, let alone tolerate him? I'm a nice guy, but I'm not THAT nice." He paused before leaving. "Look, this has been bugging me since this morning, but are you blind or something?"  
  
Yuzuriha blinked in surprise. "Blind? No, I have perfectly good 20/20 vision. Why on Earth would you think I'm blind?"  
  
Trent shrugged as he left, tossing back his answer. "It was the only reason I could think of for you getting to bring that weird-looking dog around everywhere."  
  
Tsuzuku watched him leave, then turned to a by now VERY pale Yuzuriha. "Dog?" At her failure to answer, he waved a hand in front of her face. "Excuse me?"  
  
She stared. "He can see him. Somone else can actually see him."  
  
Amaru looked around. "See who?"  
  
The unlikely shrine maiden started again. "Huh? Oh, it's nothing. Um...what's happening now?"  
  
Tsuzuku turned to Hajime. "Still think it's him?" He smiled sheepishly at the arch look. "I'm sorry." Looking towards the door, he shook his head. "He hasn't changed a bit, not in three thousand years. Still the same sarcastic, sardonic old hermit he was when he first descended to earth."  
  
Hajime nodded. "We can't force him to accept the Cloak. I wish we could, but he'd never forgive us if we did."  
  
Amaru shuddered. "He was nearly killed today twice; do we dare let him go without making sure? YOU know what happens if someone actually succeeds in mortally wounding him."  
  
Hajime stood up, their meal forgotten. "If someone succeeds, then God help us all. I can only imagine the devestation if we were lucky enough to get him to some wasteland when it happened; in downtown Tokyo?" He shuddered.  
  
Yuzuriha heard them, but she didn't really notice.   
  
--------  
  
Kim flung an arm around Trent's shoulders during the break between classes. "Okay, spill. What's going on?"  
  
Trent turned to regard his friend quizzically. He'd managed to convince himself that he really wasn't all that worried about all the stories he'd heard the night before, and now this. "Huh?"  
  
Despite the difference of almost six inches in their heights, Kim managed to drag down the taller Trent's head to knoogie him. "Come on! You must have done SOMETHING! I mean, I have to take my hat off to you; here I thought you'd never get off your rear and enjoy life, and then you go and score something like this?"  
  
Trent stared at him tiredly. Talking like that; really, what other interpretation could there have been? "What the hell are you babbling about?"  
  
"Nekoi, you twit! She's been staring at you for the past hour!"  
  
Trent's stare turned from exhaustion to incredulity. "What? Why would she stare at me?" He swiveled to look back at the sophomore, gaping as she started, turning back to her book hastily. He felt his jaw drop. She WAS staring at him. "What the hell?"  
  
Kim rolled his eyes at the eloquent reply. "You know, I'd always known that you weren't gay. But you manage to get a girl like that on the first day she arrives? Man. They're right; you DO have to watch out for the quiet ones."  
  
Trent snuck another glance at Yuzuriha. Same thing; she hastily started reading the same page again. He shook his head as he turned back. "Okay, I'm confused. I've spoken to her twice. We were in large groups at both times. I didn't say so much as a single word more than what I would have used if I bumped into a complete stranger. So why me?"  
  
--------  
  
Falaris threw his hands up at the knowing looks. "Don't look at me; I don't mess with romantic sub-plots."  
  
Elle shook her head. "It's a crossover of Sohryuden and X/1999. Both of them are Shoujo series; both revolve around 'pretty boys.' Of COURSE there are going to be abrupt romantic sub-plots. The universe itself is trying to twist our unlikely hero into the role of a Casanova; he doesn't NEED divine intervention in a place like that. In Null, maybe, but not in Tokyo."  
  
--------  
  
"Do you mind if I talk to you for a moment?"  
  
Yuzuriha started, blushing furiously as she recognized the voice as Trent's. "Huh?"  
  
Trent sighed, massaging his temples with one hand. "Do you mind if I sit down? I needed to ask you something."  
  
Yuzuriha managed to get her blushes under control. "Sure. Um..."  
  
Trent muttered under his breath about 'blasted chairs not built for six foot males' as he sat down, but ended up speaking first. "Listen, I'm sorry if I shook you up last night, but what's the deal? I mean, why DOES that dog follow you around?"  
  
Yuzuriha stared at him. "You can actually see him? You can see Inuki?"  
  
Trent nodded slowly. "Yeaaah, if Inuki is that kind of misty-gray, wolf- looking dog that follows you around." Yuzuriha smiled faintly. "I didn't think anyone else could."  
  
Sweat-drop. "Okay, I'm once again confused. Why can't anyone else see him?"  
  
Yuzuriha smiled at Trent, scaring the crap out of him. THAT look was just bound to be trouble later on. "Did you know that I'm actually a priestess?"  
  
Trent blinked. Oh, that was it. She'd been thinking of duties or something. Should have known better, really. "No, I hadn't heard. That, and you don't exactly dress like a priestess."  
  
The sophomore giggled. "No, I haven't really had any reason to at any time. My family is the guardian of the Mitsumune Shrine."  
  
"I don't follow."  
  
"Oh, it's not too important. The thing is, all of the priests and priestesses there who've descended from my family have a dog spirit of some kind; Inuki is mine."  
  
Trent nodded slowly, then scooted about two feet to the side. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.  
  
Yuzuriha sweat-dropped at the sight of him beating his head against the table. "Are you okay?"  
  
He looked up tiredly. "No, I'm not okay. I did SOMETHING in a past life that apparently made God take enough notice of me to make the effort to personally complicate my life. How would you feel if God himself decided to taunt you?" He paused again as thunder rumbled in the background. As there weren't any clouds in the sky, not even any fog, this was a bit out of the ordinary.  
  
Yuzuriha frowned as she bent to look into his face. "Um...listen, it's not really important about Inuki, it's just that no one else has ever seen him before." She sighed wistfully. "When I was in elementary school, I used to try and tell everyone about Inuki and how much fun we had together, but they always said I was a liar. Grandmother always said that only I could see Inuki because I was a special person, but that someday I'd meet other people who could see him too." Her smile turned back to perky. "So anyway, what are you doing after school? Are you going to take up the Ryudo's on their offer?"  
  
Trent managed to return to reality, turning vacantly to look at her. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
Yuzuriha giggled at him. "I asked if you're doing anything after school today."  
  
Trent stared at her. "Miss Nekoi, did you just ask me out on a date?"  
  
She pinked attractively, answering his question quite well. Groaning he drew his head back.  
  
She shot her hand out in front of him as his head started to descend. "Um, you really probably shouldn't do that. It can't be good for you."  
  
Trent sighed. "You know, this is kind of depressing. For the first time in my life, a girl has expressed an interest in me. And all I can do is wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. Says a lot about me, doesn't it?"  
  
"You son of a bitch."  
  
THAT proved enough to shock Trent out of (or at least part of the way out of) his depression. "Huh?"  
  
"How dare you, you...you...you..."  
  
Trent turned to the choked, stuttering (and just in case I've failed to make it clear, MALE) voice. "Uh...do I know you? You seem kind of familiar."  
  
The scarred, bristly-haired figure was shaking in apparent anger. "Kojiro. Kojiro Mifune, Casanova."  
  
Trent could feel the back of his head start bawling in frustration at the sound of the senior's anger. "Oh yeah, Captain of the Muay Thai club. So why Casanova?"  
  
He jerked to the side as Kojiro's fist impacted the table. "HOW DARE YOU TRY AND SCORE SOMEONE LIKE HER, YOU BASTARD! CUTE JAPANESE GIRLS ARE OFF LIMITS, GET ME?!"  
  
Trent blink-blinked at him. He was actually kind of torn as to whether he should be cringing in fear or laughing hysterically at the kickboxer's overdone attempts at making himself seem like some kind of righteous gangster. "When did this come into effect?"  
  
"IT CAME INTO - " "Excuse me, Mr. Mifune? Can you see him?"  
  
Kojiro spun to face her, his expression abruptly shifting to almost indulgent concern. "Of course I see him, the dastardly cad."  
  
Yuzuriha managed to bite back the laugh. Dastardly cad? Who TALKED like that? "I don't mean Trent, I mean him," she said, pointing to her side.  
  
Kojiro looked at the empty spot. "Huh?"  
  
Yuzuriha picked up her tray and turned to leave, smiling at Trent. "Sorry, but I make it a policy never to date boys who can't see him." She paused as she was about to leave. "Oh Trent? I'll talk to you after school."  
  
The scotsman stared as she walked away.   
  
By this point, Kojiro actually WAS frothing. "You...poor girl...dare...fragile mind...corrupt..."  
  
Trent looked back at him. "I'm sorry, are you saying that I've corrupted her mind or something?"  
  
"DIEEEEEEEEEEE!"  
  
Trent yelled in shock as he managed to scramble back out of his seat, avoiding the wild swing by a good foot. Further dodges would have been nice, but as his shoulder still felt like someone had pulled red-hot needles out of it, dodging was kind of impossible. He yelped in shock as a vaccuum blade exploded in front of him, conveniently managing to keep Kojiro seperated from him.  
  
The kickboxer spun, but felt his desire to mangle the interloper die as it proved to be Ryoko. "Errr..."  
  
She smiled darkly. "Attacking someone arbitrarily like that...have you no dignity? No pride as a warrior?"  
  
Kojiro glared at her. "Shut up! This friggin' pervert's trying to turn poor little Nekoi into his love slave!"  
  
Trent stared at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, where the hell do you get THAT from? I don't even try and TALK to girls; you think that I'm going to just up and try something THAT idiotic?"  
  
Ryoko stared at them both. She'd fought Kojiro before; usually when he'd decided that the dojo area next to the Kendo Club's rooms should be open for them too. Composing herself, she pointed her bokken at him. "If you have a grievance, settle it like a man. Not like some thug (or a certain red mountain ape), but as a warrior, as a martial artist."  
  
Kojiro glared at her, then abruptly grinned. Check, that he GRINNED. "TRENT MACRAE! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A K-FIGHT! TODAY, AFTER SCHOOL, IN THE MAIN ARENA! TO DECIDE WHICH OF US HAS THE RIGHT TO DATE YUZURIHA NEKOI!"  
  
Trent stared at him. "Are you stoned or something? What do you think this is, the stone age? 'Beat her over the head and drag her back to your cave?' That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."  
  
"AND YOU'VE HEARD IT RIGHT HERE FOLKS! A FOBIDDEN GRUDGE MATCH, THE PRIZE THE LOVELY NEW STUDENT, MISS YUZURIHA NEKOI!"  
  
Trent turned to stare as...actually, he never did remember her name. He always just thought of her as 'that annoying chick in the media club' who served as the announcer for the K-fights. "You've GOT to be kidding me. God would not be so cruel." He moaned to himself as she managed to shoot into his face.  
  
"Mr. MacRae, in the past year here at Daimon high, the only recorded K- fight you participated in was the recent near-upset against our very own Ryoko Mitsurugi. Now, you've been chosen to go up against Kojiro Mifune, one of our more dangerous fighters. What are your...uh, Trent? Do you mind?"  
  
He paused in thumping his head against the table long enough to deadpan, "quite a bit, actually." Then turned back to trying to kill his brain- cells.  
  
--------  
  
"You have GOT to be...no, you're not, are you. You wouldn't joke about something this insane," Kim remarked.  
  
Trent sighed as he finished his preparations for the match. He didn't wear a kendoist's traditional hakama and armor; against most of the fighters here, armor just slowed you down without actually protecting anything. As such, he'd chosen to just fight in loose pants and a t-shirt. Though why he'd chosen solid black was something that kept niggling at the back of his head, as though he should have remembered something but didn't. "I've never really bothered trying to socialize; I have three sisters, and between them and their friends, I'd long ago come to the conclusion that females equate trouble." He finished checking the leather wrapping he'd done to his wooden sword, checking the balance idly. "Nothing sexist, it's just that guys and women think differently, and I can't for the life of me figure them out. It would seem that I'm becoming vindicated."  
  
Kim grimaced slightly as he watched Trent try to warm up. "You know, I've seen you fight against Ryoko in the gym. Even if yesterday's fight was a fluke, I think you're better than most people think. So in a completely fair fight, you'd probably stand a decent chance of winning against Kojiro. What chances do you think you have with that shoulder?"  
  
Trent sighed. "Honestly? Not much; claymore-fighting is as much based on power as it is sword skill. It takes a lot more strength to move a long, heavy sword like this than it does a katana. Sure, the wooden sword's weight isn't that much an issue, but it's still not going to be a fair fight."  
  
Kim shook his head. "If he weren't already brain-damaged, I'd have almost thought Kojiro was taking that into account."  
  
Trent looked up as his name was called in the announcements. "You notice how he called for this match to be as public as possible? What he DID take into account was humiliating me." He chuckled weakly. "Unfortunately for him, I have almost no shame. Certainly not enough to feel bad about losing to him with a fairly serious injury still healing." With that, he jogged out into the ring.  
  
--------  
  
Yuzuriha stared as Trent entered. "What? He's actually going to fight with that injury?"  
  
Daisaku shrugged from the table as he lowered his camera. "Kind of flattering, isn't it?"  
  
Yuzuriha turned to him in confusion. "What do you mean?"  
  
Daisaku turned back in surprise. "You don't know? Oh, that's right, you only arrived yesterday; no way you'd know everything about the K-fight system." He snapped a quick shot of Kojiro striking a pose before continuing. "If Trent refused to fight, then by the terms of the K-fight system, he would have already lost. In other words, Trent is up there to defend your honor and right to date who you want. From what I've heard about him, I doubt that he even realizes he's doing that, but it's still kind of romantic, isn't it?"  
  
Yuzuriha blushed faintly. "Yes, it is," she mumbled. In her mind, she could already see the sakura petals as her brave samurai...well, highlander anyway destroyed his opponent, leaping from the ring to sweep her off her feet and proclaim his devotion...  
  
Then reality returned, and she sighed in disappointment. Nice fantasy; she meets a guy who can finally see Inuki and they fall instantly in love with each other, because their vision makes them destined. Unfortunately, the guy seemed to be more confused and bewildered about her (she'd admit it) crush on him.  
  
Because it really could just be a crush; maybe she was fixated on him just because he met one small criteria she had felt necessary. He might not be her type after all; maybe they'd just be random acquaintances.  
  
Reality didn't last long. It was anime, after all. And thus did the people start to stare at the strange if cute exchange student with the shining eyes and sakura petals drifting around her.  
  
In heaven, Falaris smiled sheepishly. "Okay, THAT time I intervened."  
  
--------  
  
Kojiro smirked as Trent entered the ring. "So, you had the guts to actually face me?" He chuckled, then burst into full-blown evil laughter. "Such a shame that your presence here serves no purpose other than to bring my manliness into the eyes of the masses! GAAAAHAHAHAHAH!"  
  
In the audience, Azumi whistled appreciatively. "Not bad for an amateur; he shows promise."  
  
Further talk ended as 'announcer girl' called for the fight to begin.  
  
Again, Trent chose to focus primarily on defense. Bringing his claymore between him and Kojiro, he jumped backwards to dodge the flurry of vicious punches, ducking and pivoting as Kojiro scythed a vicious spinning hook kick at him. Taking advantage of his position, Trent swiped his claymore out as hard as he could at Kojiro's knee. Not as hard as he would have liked; he was still only able to use his left hand to keep the sword balanced, but it was still enough to knock the leg out from under the kick- boxer.  
  
Kojiro managed to roll clumsily with the fall. It didn't do much for his image, but it did serve the purpose of reducing the injury. He was back on his feet in a second, this time focusing more on punching his foe into submission as opposed to kicking; like all kick boxers, he had balance problems, but he had the neurons to recognize it.  
  
For his part, Trent remained on the defensive the whole time. He saw an opening every once in a while, but with his left arm out of commission, he knew that he'd only leave himself open to attack if he tried anything.  
  
Abruptly, what had been a pistoning shot towards Trent's head turned into a swipe. Trent blocked with his sword, but it proved to be the worst move he could have made. Grabbing the sword, Kojiro yanked it around enough to keep Trent from using it, and punched him in the left shoulder. Hard.  
  
Trent bellowed in pain as the nerves exploded in pain. It wasn't enough to dislocate it again, but it hurt like HELL. Stumbling back, Trent felt a black haze start to move across his eyes, and worried for an instant that he might be blacking out.  
  
Then reflex took over as his sword lanced forward, faster than he'd ever struck before, sending a brief vaccuum attack into Kojiro's thorat. Enough to slow him down, but not much else. Still, it managed to shock the kick- boxer into brief caution.  
  
Trent wasn't feeling terribly cautious. Now he was pissed. The strange part was that he didn't feel for even a second like yelling and charging and trying to beat his opponent into a state of severe pain. His mind was actually working more sharply now, more clinical. Staring coldy at his opponent, he switched his claymore to the left hand. Ignoring the pain, he began to swing it through slow, lazy figure eight motions. A small part of him wondered why the pain wasn't there, but he didn't really bother to think about it too much. His arm was good enough to fight again; it wouldn't take long now. "That hurt, you know. And I didn't think you would have considered striking weak spots to be sporting."  
  
Kojiro smirked. "Hey, whatever works. Like I should care about the little skirt-wearer's morals."  
  
Trent smiled, shocking Kojiro slightly. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but the sight of that glacial smile scared him. Psyching himself up, he retook his stance, dancing on the balls of his feet. Trent just switched his claymore back to his right hand, letting the tip rest casually on the ground at his right.  
  
Again, it was Kojiro who began the attack. This time though, Trent didn't even bother trying to counter. He just wasn't there; every punch was easily dodged. In frustration, Kojiro went for the Haymaker approach, slashing a round kick at him. In that instant, Trent ducked and simultaneously brought his claymore, slamming it violently into the base of his leg.  
  
Kojiro screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground, a roar of vicarious pain rising from every male throat in the crowd. Trent smiled darkly. "Two inches, Kojiro. That's all that kept the remnants of your bloodline alive."  
  
Still gasping and cursing in pain, Kojiro stared at the scotsman. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don't hit a guy there!"  
  
Trent smiled mockingly. "I'm sorry, but this little skirt-wearer's morals are rather simply defined. Let your enemy set the rules, then kill them under them. You want to go for the weak spots? Let's see who has the most." He returned to his stance, waiting.  
  
Kojiro fumbled to his feet. He couldn't take a stance again; a single ounce of weight on his right leg would be enough to make him collapse. Limping forward, he tried swinging at Trent again.  
  
It was the last move he took in the fight. In a lightning motion, Trent's claymore struck twice; once under each arm where it joined the torso. He didn't want to dislocate or break anything, but he fully intended to make sure Kojiro couldn't move any of his limbs. It was simple, really. His advantage was speed. It wasn't enough to win on its own. So all he had to do was slow his opponent down enough for a kill strike. Simple, really.  
  
He finished off by sweeping Kojiro's left leg out from under him. As the kickboxer fell, his sword came up and around, and snapped forward in a savage thrust to the neck.  
  
Kojiro stared in shock at Trent. The stab had been perfect; it had barely touched him. Just the wind of its passage though was giving him a rugburn. He wondered briefly what would have happened if Trent had decided not to miss. And thus it came to be that the mats had to be dry-cleaned of certain bodily fluids.  
  
Trent leaned down to stare at his now-terrified opponent. "'And when I had opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth beast say, 'come and see.' And I looked, and I beheld a pale horse, and him who sat on it was named Death, and Hell followed in his wake. And Power was given unto him; power to kill with sword, and with death, and with fire, and with the beasts of the earth.'" He rose up. "Don't ever try this again."  
  
He turned to leave the ring, and while he ignored the stunned silence followed by the cheers as he walked out, that did not mean he didn't notice them.  
  
--------  
  
"That was unexpected."  
  
Trent turned to the new face. "Amaru, right?" At the nod, he turned back to look into the sky. "Something on your mind? If it has to do with whatever I'm supposed to touch, please don't bother."  
  
Amaru sighed, easing himself down to sit next to Trent. "I'd considered it. Actually, I'm here about that arm of yours."  
  
Trent turned back, raising his left arm carefully. He still couldn't figure out why he'd been able to move like that with this level of pain, and he was starting to get scared. The dreams alone were bad enough, the last thing he needed was it turning out to be memories of a previous life. what passed for normality at Daimon High was bad enough. "What about it?"  
  
Amaru's smile was a bit sheepish, if sympathetic. "I wasn't really paying much attention to your fight with Ryoko yesterday. I kind of didn't see any reason."  
  
"Why would you?" Trent asked understandingly. "I was some random fool getting his stuffings beaten in. Just one more drop in the bucket here at Daimon."  
  
Amaru shook his head at the perfect acceptance of being ignored. "Anyway, I wanted to show you something." He slipped the watch off his wrist; nickel-plated steel for the actual clock portion itself, the band made of some kind of glossy black metal. One light show later, and it had extended into a five and a half foot long staff. The haft was some kind of black material; it could have been wood, but something told Trent he was staring at a five-foot shaft of carved onyx. It looked strange; the length had been treated to resemble wood grain slightly, with wavy lines of charcoal gray showing faintly along its length. The head was in the style of a buddhist monk's staff; capped by a ring of metal divided in two, three more smaller rings of metal hanging from each half. Fairly ordinary, if you ignored the fact that the larger ring was made of two dragons meeting their heads at the top, the rings also made of smaller coiling dragons.  
  
Trent stared at it. "Okay, I remember Tsuzuku mentioning that your treasure was the staff. Now what?"  
  
Amaru just laid the head of the staff against Trent's shoulder, ignoring the strangled yell as its powers activated. "A dislocated shoulder can be pretty painful from what I understand. Thought that should help."  
  
Trent stared at his arm. Raising it carefully, he swung it around in a few experimental circles. "Healed. Like it never happened." He shook his head. "If you charged for that, you could make a killing here."  
  
Amaru grinned. "No, I wouldn't feel right about it." He stood to go. "Like I said, I'd mainly come here to try and convince you otherwise, but if you don't want to hear it, I better go."  
  
Trent looked up. "I'm not going to, but would you mind answering a question?"Amaru stood up, changing the staff back to his watch. "If I can, sure."  
  
Trent nodded. "Fair enough. Back in the restaurant, Hajime's sword came from a pen that looked pretty modern. Tsuzuku's book started out as a notepad, and your staff is apparently a watch. If those things are three thousand years old, how..."  
  
Amaru chuckled. "We got them as a sword, book, and staff. Each new king chooses the alternate form."  
  
Trent shook his head as Amaru walked off. "Now what?"  
  
--------  
  
Kamui gasped in pain as he fell to the pavement. I'm going to kill them both. She had no business... He winced as his landing managed to aggravate the hole in his side.   
  
"What the hell?"  
  
Kamui looked up as a tall, white-haired man...no, teenager (he DID pause to wonder what kind of eighteen-year-old would have silver-white hair) ran over.  
  
Trent stared in shock. "Hey, you're the new kid, right? Kamui? Geez, what happened to you? You look like you lost a fight with a combine or something."  
  
"Don't touch me!"  
  
Trent ignored the ineffectual shove. "Yeah, yeah, you're strong enough on your own." Sighing, he bent down to support the smaller boy. He paused as he got his first good look at the wounds. "What DID happen to you? Those cuts look like they were surgical or something; what could have cut you that fine..." He paused. "Uh, I don't suppose you know a tall, blonde highschool student flinging around blades of air, do you?" He sighed as Kamui abruptly tried struggling again. "I'll take that as a yes."  
  
Kamui tried shoving his carrier back, struggling to charge enough power to psionically zap him. "That FRIEND of yours - "  
  
"He's NOT my friend," Trent gritted out. "The only reason I only know him in the first place is because he tried to murder me last night." His comments proved enough to calm Kamui, as he relaxed somewhat. Enough to lose consciousness like a normal human being.  
  
Nothing happened as Trent worked to drag Kamui's body to the nearest doctor. Which, predictably enough (if you've read the manga) took him past the Togakushi shrine. Where Kotori Monou was conveniently (almost suspiciously so) waiting.  
  
She stared in shock at the now profusely-bleeding Kamui. "Oh my god, what happened to him?" (1)  
  
Trent sighed. "I'll let him tell you." "Look, I need to get him to the nearest doctor - "  
  
"Kamui..."  
  
Trent turned his head at the quiet, shocked voice. "Uh...he's pretty messed up. I found him on my way home."  
  
The larger Fuma ran over quickly to grab the younger Kamui. "Kotori, call the doctor immediately. Tell him that someone was..." he turned to Trent.  
  
Trent sighed. "He's suffering some pretty bad cut wounds, mainly to the side of his torso."  
  
Fuma nodded. "Tell him that. He'll probably need stitches."  
  
As Kotori ran off, Trent turned to Fuma. "You know him?"  
  
Fuma nodded slowly. "We were friends a long time ago, before he moved away. We...we've been meaning to talk."  
  
"What's this?"  
  
Trent turned. "Hello Mr. Monou. Seems a friend of your son had a bit of an accident."  
  
Kyougo frowned in concern. "What..." his eyes widened in shock. "Kamui..."  
  
--------  
  
Trent sighed as he walked out the door. The doctor had come and gone; the cuts were far shallower than he'd expected, and would apparently heal without any major scarring problems. Still, the doctor was baffled as to who had done the damage; what could have made cuts cleaner than those from a brand-new surgical scalpel?  
  
He paused as he looked up. He wasn't Japanese, just in the country. Fortunately, that proved enough for him to sweatdrop as he came out. As the front gate itself was blocked off, he took a deep breath, turned, and started walking in the general direction of the shrine itself. "Now that's just silly. I didn't see a man in a business suit and overcoat use a set of iron claws (2) to batter aside lightning bolts from some guy who looks like he shops at the same store as Alvin from the Chipmunks. My head's playing tricks on me." Now if he could just start believing it...  
  
"You...did you do this to Kamui?"  
  
Trent screeched to a halt at the voice. He recognized it as Fuma's, but the tone was a bit off. As in, 'on the verge of entering an emotionless killing spree,' something he didn't usually equate with the nonchalant and expressionless Senior. Well, the killing part at least; he had a hard time picturing Fuma as anything other than emotionless. He continued watching as the teenager in the backwards baseball cap and "A" shirt did...something to a cube-shaped forcefield, somehow turning what HAD been a war-zone back to pristine. "Okay, THAT I'll admit is pretty impressive."  
  
Taking a last look around, he noticed that the suit was heading away, Fuma was talking to the teenager, and no one was even bothering to LOOK his direction. Maybe he'd get a chance to actually get away before anything ELSE strange happened.  
  
He kind of doubted it.  
  
--------  
  
Kyougo slowly rose from his crouch. Facing the altar solemnly, he removed his treasure and his bane, that grim trophy of his marriage that he'd kept safe for almost ten years now. Picking up the long, slender bundle, he faced it sadly. "Its finally time. Kamui has returned, and with his return we now face the end. I only pray that he is strong enough, that he is worthy of you now." With that, he removed the wrappings. Sacred cloth woven to protect from the sight of any and all, from dreamseers to dunces, fell away to reveal an awesome sight.  
  
It had always struck Kyougo as somewhat strange that the weapon of the final battle, destined to be fought and decided in Tokyo, should be a thoroughly European sword. The four foot long claymore glistened faintly as he held it aloft, holy light shimmering down its length. Stepping to the lintels of his door, he held it aloft, letting the soft blaze of energies woven by heaven and earth shimmer in the moonlight.  
  
A rustle of cloth was his only herald. He spun, the sword in hand as a figure began to appear in the candlelight of the altar. "Who's there?!" The intruder stepped out of the shadows. He appeared to be a young man in his early twenties; pale-skinned, white-haired, clad in dark gray, he seemed to almost be a living statue. The only concession to color was the strange mark on his forehead, almost that of a lotus as seen from the side. "I have come for the sword."  
  
Kyougo frowned. "This sword is not mine to wield, but it is mine to give. And I have yet to see who is worthy to wield it. Depart in peace, and no harm will come to you."  
  
Nataku began to let the long strip of white cloth he wore as a scarf slither to the ground. "I cannot depart."  
  
Kyougo's eyes narrowed. "So be it. I paid a very dear price for this sword, and you will not have it."  
  
Outside, Trent was currently facing a bit of an internal dilemna. On the one hand, he could feel that strange tickle along the length of his spine that had prompted him to see what had been going on with that weird fight and forcefield. On the other hand, if that meant what he thought it did (ANOTHER strange and most likely mind-boggling fight that would get him nearly killed), he REALLy didn't want to go within a hundred yards of the battle zone.  
  
Groaning (and rather fervently wishing he could be apathetic enough to do the logical thing and save his own skin), he turned towards the source of the disturbance.  
  
The shrine, it's insides currently flickering with strange lights.  
  
Kyougo frowned in concern at his opponent. His prayers had been unleashing electricity of a power that you generally needed something along the lines of the Grand Coulee Dam to generate, and this strange, emotionless man was just deflecting them with nothing more than that strip of cloth. "I am not this sword's master, but to think that you could deflect its sacred lightning." His eyes widened in shock. "Could you be..."  
  
Nataku ignored the next desperate blast, slipping past it as he shot towards the shrine master, his hand braced for a killing stroke.  
  
For a long time, Trent was never completely sure what prompted him. All he did remember for sure was that he'd flung himself towards the shrine keeper, tackling him to the side just as Nataku struck. So rather than Kyougo having someone's hand rammed through his rib-cage, Trent ended up getting a nice, painful cut that completely bisected one of his kidneys.  
  
Nataku paused to regard the man for a moment, then leaped upwards as another lightning attack streaked for him. He wasn't sure why, but the white-haired teen seemed...dangerous, to him.  
  
Then he staggered to the side as a new blast ripped past him, the slip- stream alone unleashing enough raw force to severely bruise his ribs; it would have taken little more to crack them.  
  
Hajime raised the sword for a second blow, but did not strike. He didn't want to kill the man, just drive him off. He sighed in relief as Nataku left; the man had the sense to realize that between the two of them, he was out-matched. "This world is changing far too quickly; too much occurs in too little time." He turned to regard Trent, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the gaping wound. "What..."  
  
Trent gasped in shock and pain. For the first twenty or so seconds, he'd been in shock, or so he assumed; he hadn't felt much. Apparently, the adrenaline had worn off, and he kind of wished it hadn't.   
  
Hajime's sword snapped from its sheath as he bellowed to his brother. "AMARU! THE STAFF!"  
  
Amaru stared in shock as Hajime unleashed a massive surge of raw energy from the sword. "What are you doing?! You're going to kill him!"  
  
Hajime grunted under the strain. "That's what I'm trying to fight! I can't hold it back much longer; he was already dying !"  
  
This time, it wasn't the sight of Hajime attacking Trent that made Amaru pale. Abruptly accelerating, he was next to Trent in moments, staff in hand. He desperately poured healing energies into the Scotman's body, knitting flesh and bone with a speed that made it seem that the wound simply ceased to exist.  
  
Fumbling, Trent scrambled away from the two of them. A part of him marveled at the new health, but he had been JUST conscious enough to recognize what had been going on. He stared at Hajime wildly. "What the hell is going on?" he asked raggedly. "You saved me from Daisuke, you drove that guy off, and then you try and kill me?"  
  
Hajime leaned against his sword as he crouched on the ground, panting heavily. "No, I was trying to suppress your powers long enough for Amaru to finish healing you. I'm sorry if that startled you, but I had no other choice."  
  
Trent forced himself to his feet. Amaru had done a good job with him physically, but emotionally he was still pretty ragged. Two near-death experiences seconds apart can do that to you. "Alright, why suppress my 'powers?' Amaru healed my shoulder just fine without you trying that."  
  
Amaru winced. "Trent...there's something we didn't tell you last night."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Great. Let me guess; this is going to be somewhat important?"  
  
Amaru nodded carefully. "What we said about using the artifact to check for your powers? There's...a second way to do it. If you ARE the fourth king, then they'll automatically activate if you suffer a wound that should kill you."  
  
Trent stared at him. "So if Daisuke had succeeded, then you would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt if it was me or not? So why not just let him kill me that time?"  
  
Hajime stood up slowly; he recovered fast. "Two reasons. First of all, if you aren't Him then I don't want to have being an accessory to murder on my conscious. The other is that...gaining your powers that way isn't safe. For you, or for the greater portion of Japan."  
  
Trent groaned. He really didn't need this emotional rollercoaster. "Just give me the bottom line, okay?"  
  
Hajime took a deep breath. "Killing you wouldn't just trigger your powers; it's also one of the triggers for changing into a dragon. You'd become a nigh-unstoppable incarnation of death the size of a World War II aircraft carrier capable of levelling every man-made structure on the planet in hours. Of course, your immediate area wouldn't suffer much, as the energy back-lash of transforming equals that of a small tactical nuclear warhead, so there wouldn't BE anything to harm. Everything within a half kilometer would already be dead or dying, not including the area of effect just from the sound, light, and blast wave."  
  
Trent stared at him in dull shock. "You're saying THAT is what your artifact does?"  
  
Amaru shook his head. "The exact opposite, actually. The artifacts weren't just formed because of their extra benefits. The creators didn't even know that would happen at first, it just kind of did. They were really made so that the kings could gain their powers without reducing their kingdom to ash. It's the SAFE way to test for your powers."  
  
Trent shook his head. "If the other option's like you said, why didn't you mention that?"  
  
"Because you wouldn't have chosen then," Hajime said. "You would have done exactly what we wanted. You had to CHOOSE to try and become the dragon king."  
  
"If that's the case, why tell me now?"  
  
"Because you asked," was Amaru's reply.  
  
Trent stared at the two of them for several minutes. No talking, no questions, just staring. He didn't think they were right; he was crazed, abnormal, and flat-out weird, but that didn't mean the reason was that he had the blood of dragons in his veins. That wasn't the point, however. The point was simply a question; was he willing to risk those consequences (assuming they were true)?  
  
Logically, they probably weren't real. The concept of an animal that large was ludicrous; how could it survive? Just supporting its own weight would be impossible. And transforming someone his size into that much mass? Again, unlikely. And that 'nuclear bomb' backlash? Sounded awfully convenient.  
  
Was he willing to risk that it was all a hoax? Tokyo had a population of around twenty million people; even if that kind of destruction occured only within a half-kilometer radius, hundreds of thousands would likely die just from that kind of a blast. Then of course there would be those left to try and live through the loss of power, gas, food, safe water, medical attention...the loss of life would likely double.  
  
Not much of a choice, really.  
  
"Two days," Trent said finally. "Give me two days to try and sort this out. Then, I'll go and we can find out once and for all if you three are right, or if you're just deluded."  
  
Hajime nodded. "The dragons of heaven already know about us; that's why Daisuke tried to test you on his own. They're keeping the Cloak safe for now; in two days, we'll find them." He turned to Yuzuriha (she'd shown up to see who had put up the spirit barrier). "Provided of course that we ARE invited?"  
  
Yuzuriha just grinned uncertainly. "Sure you are." She turned back to Kamui. "You should come there too; you need to know about this."  
  
Kamui glared at the assembled people, but that was about all it was. He knew what he would do, just as well as they did. "I'll go."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Trent vs. Nataku in the Togakushi shrine, Amaru's save  
  
Author's notes: Whew! Quite an update, huh? I'm probably not going to write as many chapters in this story, but they're going to be a fair bit longer than my usual ones. Anyway, this isn't really an X/1999 fic, it's a Sohryuden one. Unfortunately, that's not a sub-category on the site, so I'm calling it an X one anyway. By about chapter five, I'll be switching storylines a bit anyway. Till then, enjoy my changes. Also, I may not get another update for a while; I'm still kind of working on the storyline. If you have any suggestions, I'm open to them. Doesn't mean I'll use them, but if they fit what I want, maybe I will.  
  
(1) - Kind of corny, I realize, but I'm not very good at writing about screechy damsels in distress...well, at least not their dialogue. Why do you think Book Two was about Slayers? 


	4. Chapter Three: The Choice of Four Kings

Bolero  
  
Chapter Three The Choice of Four Kings  
  
Trent sighed under his umbrella. He'd spent the past two days in something of a daze; go to school, go to club practices, get the snot beaten out of him by Ryoko; it had gotten to be almost something of a ritual. Now he didn't even think about, not really.  
  
Three days ago he'd been informed that he was actually some kind of dragon. Given his dreams, he would suppose that was a reasonable possibility, but not reasonable enough for him to take it at face value. The next day he'd ended up finding strange people with weird polyhedron force fields fighting people with the same general abilities as arc-cutting equipment. Then he'd gotten a hole punched through his hand by a guy who could cut steel with his scarf, followed by being healed of it instantly, and finally being informed that not only was he a dragon, he was a dragon whose powers would be on a rough par with the An Act of God.  
  
Oh yeah, they'd neglected that earlier.  
  
He sighed as his chin found its way to rest on his hand. He really missed having a life that was close enough to simple that he didn't have to worry about anything beyond getting a decent grade on his next history test and not getting killed in kendo practice. He really did miss it.  
  
"What are you thinking about?"  
  
Trent turned to regard Kamui and Sorata (the guy who'd been dressing in VERY weird clothes; turned out he was some kind of priest too). "Listen, I've asked just about everyone else, and no one's willing to talk, so I may as well ask you. What the f-@%$ is going on?"  
  
Kamui irritably shook off Sora's would-be companionable hand on his shoulder. Kyougo refused to give him the sword. As he'd put it, 'this sword cost me dearly. I refuse to give it to one I deem unworthy. And you have not yet given me reason to see you otherwise.' And unfortunately, the old goat was Kotori and Fuma's dad, so he couldn't just beat it out of him. "I don't know. All I know is that I was supposed to come to Tokyo in 1999 and get that sword for some kind of 'great purpose' or something. And apparently it's all tied up with more people."  
  
Trent rolled his eyes at the glare leveled against all and sundry. "Yeah, I'm kind of curious as to this myself. It's not every day you're informed that you're going to effect the rest of the world's destiny. Kind of a ta'verren thing, huh?"  
  
"A what?"  
  
Trent grinned faintly. "Nothing, just something I read in a book." He stood to leave. "So, the meeting is today, right? I'll see you there."  
  
Kamui muttered dark things under his breath as Trent sauntered off. As if it hadn't been bad enough getting that casual brush-off from Kyougo, he'd gotten the distinct feeling that this white-haired guy was somehow more likely to get the sword than he was.  
  
Nope, he wasn't having a good day.  
  
And as I'm sure you might have guessed, it's going to get worse.  
  
--------  
  
Trent sighed deeply, trying to quiet his currently pounding heart as he looked up at the Diet building. He'd seen it once or twice, but he'd usually just assumed it was like the United States Capitol building except with Japanese bean counters instead of American ones. Apparently that was true, but it also served as the headquarters for some kind of psychic that was secretly telling the rest of the world what to do.  
  
He was really hoping that before the end of whatever this was, he'd be left with SOMETHING that was actually the way he'd originally thought about it. As it stood, he was getting this really bad feeling that somehow the other shoe was somewhere, begging the powers that be for the chance to drop.  
  
He paused as he noticed Kamui and Sora. He blinked, double-taking as he noticed that some new girl had joined them. A-typical Japanese girl (if an extremely attractive one), was wearing a sailor-style girl's school uniform (he still wondered why the girls of this country put up with them), and had a faced that looked like it had been carved from very bored ice. So most likely another psychic.  
  
He was about to step forward when he felt a hand drop to his shoulder. Turning, he took in Hajime's sober expression, mirrored on both Amaru's and Tsuzuku's faces. That, and Yuzuriha trying hard to keep anyone from finding out just how strained her cheerful grin actually was.  
  
Sora waved casually, not quite as chipper as he usually had been. "You guys ready?"  
  
At the series of nods, he turned to the new girl. "Well, are we all acceptable guests for the princess, or should we just barge in?"  
  
She gave him a cool, if arch look. "She already knows you're coming. After all...she's the dreaming priestess."  
  
Trent felt like groaning again, but bit it back. IF nothing else, he was starting to feel like that Ikari weenie he'd seen in that anime he'd started watching.  
  
--------  
  
Yuzuriha turned to regard the new addition to their group; she was curious, and as the elevator seemed to be taking forever, it was a convenient distraction. "Hi, what's your name?"  
  
She regarded the younger girl calmly, a bit unsure as to why she was so chipper. Still, she'd been polite about it. "Arashi...Arashi Kishue."  
  
Yuzuriha's eyes sparkled. "WOW! That means 'tempest,' right?"  
  
Arashi nodded slowly, sweat-dropping despite herself as the dog-user continued crowing to herself under her breath about how cool her new sempai's name was.  
  
Further embarrassment was averted as the elevator finally chose to end its descent. Trent watched as Arashi greeted the twins who seemed to be serving as an unlikely pair of bodyguards. He caught the word 'Kamui' in her speech, causing an almost immediate scurry to the back of the room and some kind of curtained-off dais. At some kind of unspoken signal, they simultaneously brought the curtains away.  
  
Trent's immediate first impression was frailty. The women - no, child looked like she'd been carved out of spider-webs; pale and almost impossibly wispy. The formal kimono she was wearing looked almost like the wedding kimonos he'd seen, but he personally thought it kind of creepy, the way it complimented the silver white hair that curled over the floor. That, and a memory of someone telling him that in the far-east, people wore white instead of black to funerals.  
  
Kamui's reaction was a bit more...observable. Namely, him growling 'you!' and powering up some kind of aura of blue psychic energies.  
  
Sora's eyes widened in alarm as he grabbed Kamui from behind. "STOP IT! YOU CAN'T GO INTO BATTLE MODE HERE!"  
  
Kamui didn't bother fighting back. "She - "  
  
Whatever he had intended to say was drowned out by the sudden application of a blunt instrument to the back of his head. Didn't hurt him, but it WAS enough to get him to quit trying to bring the place down around them. He turned to glare at the offending party. "What the hell was that for?"  
  
Trent smiled sarcastically as he lowered his umbrella. (1) "Well, somebody had to shut the two of you up."  
  
[The fourth king, are you not?]  
  
Trent paused, then very calmly sank to a crouch. "Can you speak normally? I'd appreciate it if you did as opposed to transferring strange thoughts into my head. My weirdness limit peaked several days ago."  
  
Arashi cleared her throat in embarrassment. "Unfortunately, Princess Hinoto can only communicate in this way."  
  
Trent nodded tiredly. "The price for whatever it is that makes her so special, then? Gotcha." He turned to Hajime. "So, when do I get to find out what's going on?"  
  
Hajime shrugged. "They'll have to tell you there side of what it is that they're doing; they haven't bothered to tell us yet beyond that it involves the end of the world."  
  
"That's not what I meant." Trent shook his head. "I mean, you and your brothers aren't a part of this originally, are you? Whatever is supposed to be going on with the end of the world, if you had some critical role to play in it, then you would have been told the complete truth. So why does it come down to this place, these people?"  
  
Ignoring the both curious and anxious looks of the assembled 'dragons of heaven' (a title he personally found rather pretentious if not outright silly), Tsuzuku began. "We're actually only involved because of an accident. That boy who tried to kill you...Daisuke, was it?" He chuckled richly. "Let's just say you weren't his first; he thought that Hajime was one of the 'dragons of earth' as opposed to THE dragon of earth. Not to terribly intelligent, considering that Hajime is the strongest of us."  
  
Trent's smile turned...less pleasant. "How badly did you maim him?"  
  
Hajime shrugged. "Not as badly as you think."  
  
Rolling his eyes at the disappointment on Trent's face, Tsuzuku continued. "As I was saying, when I found out, I checked everything I could on Daisuke, and found out about this entire, ridiculous mess. We felt that arbitrarily allowing all life on earth to be exterminated wasn't something that we would like to avoid."  
  
Trent frowned. "Okay, now I'm getting a little bit confused. If you're not going to let the end of the world happen, then why haven't they explained anything? Aren't you allies or something?"  
  
Hajime shook his head. "That's just it. We're not allies; we haven't decided whether or not we're going to help them yet." A restraining hand rose. "And before you ask why, we decided right from the start that we didn't want to split the family over this; what one of us decides, all of us will follow." He sighed. "So what happens is up to you, as you're the only one who Hinoto is willing to show the future to."  
  
Trent turned to regard the three; resignation on Hajime's face, calm on Tsuzuku's, and a certain sheepishness on Amaru's. "For the love of god, don't you three ever get tired of springing these surprises on me?"  
  
Kamui's biting remarks drove them back to the main. "If you're finished, can we get this over with?"  
  
[Kamui...I must apologize for what I did earlier, but you had to see.]  
  
Kamui's expression closed for a moment, then calm arrogance returned. "See what? Your 'visions?' More of those sick little fantasies of yours?"  
  
Trent whistled quietly as the princesses two attendants started berating him. "'Sick fantasies? Kamui, you dog. And I thought it was the quiet ones you watched for...well, well."  
  
Kamui nearly face-faulted at the richly amused voice. Yuzuriha biting back giggles wasn't helping much, though it was better than the sight of Sora rolling around on the floor in unrestrained laughter. Still, it had served Trent's purpose of breaking up the 'walking on thin ice' atmosphere that had been omnipresent.  
  
Hinoto turned sightless eyes to the two. [Both of you, please come closer. You need to see this.]  
  
Trent sighed deeply, calming himself. A bit piqued at his hesitation, Kamui sullenly shouldered his way forward, Trent not far behind. Both knelt before Hinoto, waiting.  
  
And the world as they knew it shattered.  
  
--------  
  
Trent blinked in confusion as he found himself staring in some kind of wasteland; it looked as though some kind of sandstorm of biblical proportions had struck out of nowhere, burying what had once been Tokyo. "Good god, what happened?"  
  
Kamui turned wild-eyed as his gaze swept the same scene. "How...how could this have happened?"  
  
Hinoto's gaze grew sad, and once more, the world shattered.  
  
--------  
  
Trent groaned quietly as they found themselves in a somewhat less devestated Tokyo. "Great. Do you suppose you could come up with a version of this that's a little easier on the mind?"  
  
Kamui frowned. "You haven't explained yet. That...that desert that swallowed Tokyo. How is that going to happen?"  
  
Hinoto looked up. [The dragons of earth will devour Tokyo.]  
  
Kamui frowned. "Dragons of earth...you mean an earthquake? An earthquake is going to strike Tokyo?"  
  
Trent frowned as well, though more in confusion. "A Tokyo earthquake? So what; the Japanese people have been spending the past what, forty years, building up this city to take a major earthquake. It's been considered the biggest geological powder keg in the world for decades; there are safe- guards for things like that."  
  
Hinoto shook her head at him. [Unfortunatley, no. The recent earthquakes striking, each over 6 on the Richter scale...they were merely the foreshadow to what is to come when the barriers are shattered.]  
  
Trent frowned. "Barriers?"  
  
Various images began to superimpose themselves over the landscape as Hinoto gazed around. [Tokyo is the keystone of many of this world's protective barriers, ancient or man-made. Many protect Tokyo itself; the giant 'warding stones' of the Shinjuku high-rise skyline; the pillar that supports the unstable foundation, Sunshine-60; the great Yamanote rail line, laid down in the shape of the hand of Buddha; the Tokyo tower...all are here to support the barriers that protect the world.]  
  
Trent stared at her dully. "You're saying that if a major earthquake hits Tokyo, it's going to trigger an avalanche of mystical force or something that would be strong enough to destroy the entire planet?" He rubbed at his temples. "Quick question; who was the idiot who decided that JAPAN would be the best place for this 'keystone?'"  
  
Kamui glared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? You think the Japanese aren't capable of holding up to such a task?"  
  
Trent glared right back. "My point is this. Why wasn't the keystone placed in someplace like the middle of the Sahara, or the North Pole, or someplace in the Siberian Plateau...SOMEPLACE WITH FEWER NATURAL DISASTERS!" Even Kamui jumped at his sudden outburst. "I mean, for god's sake, people have known since ancient times that nature uses Japan for a chew-toy; earthquakes, volcanoes, tidal waves, typhoons...am I making this clear? This is like hiding the only copy of the cure for cancer in a cardboard box somebody put in an incinerator."  
  
Hinoto turned as abruptly, some kind of gigantic creature erupted from the ground. Kamui grunted in shock and exertion as he shot the side, an orb of psychic force in his hand. Hinoto gently admonished him as the orb shot through with no effect whatsoever. [We are here as though in a vision. They cannot harm you any more than you can harm them.] She turned to watch as abruptly, six more dragons erupted from the cityscape, their bodies wrenching huge chasms in the earth. Chasms which formed a shape disturbingly similar to the Star of David.  
  
Trent watched in horrified fascination as they raged across the city. "So...the earthquake isn't natural? These seven trigger it?"  
  
Hinoto nodded. [I admit now that choosing Japan was perhaps unwise, but we cannot change that now. What we know is that the seven dragons of earth will trigger the quake...unless...]  
  
A new image appeared, as the massive clouds of dust and smoke were pierced to the north. Trent frowned. His eyes widened as the stars started to shimmer and twist, bending and growing until they had grown into dragons to match the seven below. Then abruptly, the vision ended.  
  
Kamui stared. "What happened?"  
  
Hinoto's expression remained sad. [If the dragons of heaven attack the dragons of earth...if they form the great spirit shield to protect Tokyo...then the apocalypse will not occur.] She turned imploring eyes on him. [Kamui...you must lead the dragons of heaven! It is your destiny!]  
  
"One of them, dear sister."  
  
Trent spun as a sultry voice reappeared in the rubble. "Who are...whoa."  
  
Kanoe laughed at his reaction. "Flatterer." She sighed as she strutted towards Hinoto. "Dear, dear little sister...you naughty thing you. You haven't told him everything, have you?"  
  
Hinoto stared in helpless shock as Kanoe's fingers lightly stroked her chin. [Kanoe! Why are you doing this!]  
  
She straightened, radiating unconcern. "I do this because it is my destiny, sister dear. Just as you do what you do for the same sake." She turned to Kamui. "True, you can lead the dragons of heaven if you wish. However, there is another destiny my dear sister hasn't shown you."  
  
[STOP IT KANOE!]  
  
Ignoring the telepathic pleas, she smiled as she drew closer. "Would you like to see it?"  
  
Whatever might have been shown will remain a mystery. Primarily due to Hinoto unceremoniously blasting her younger sister out of her vision.  
  
And for the last time, the world around them shattered.  
  
--------  
  
Kamui groaned as he regained consciousness to be greeted by the concerned Sora. Abruptly he sat up, his muzziness gone in an instant.  
  
Trent reflected idly that he at least had gotten a more pleasant face to wake up to; namely Arashi's. Though if what he understood was true, he was a bit curious as to why Yuzuriha hadn't been there.  
  
Hinoto turned her pleading gaze to Kamui once more. [You saw...please Kamui! You must lead the dragons of heaven!]  
  
Not bothering to answer, he stared at her coldy. Gone was the pissy, fifteen-year-old-teenaged-angst. In its place was the gaze of someone who would not hesitate to kill; the face was that of a warrior now. "Why didn't you tell me? That woman said I had two futures. You Lied To Me."  
  
Hinoto gasped as he roughly dragged her up from her dais. "Sora told me that my mother was someone's shadow sacrifice, but that no one could have suffered what she felt. Tell me now. WHO KILLED HER! WHO MURDERED MY MOTHER WHILE I COULDN'T PROTECT HER!"  
  
Hinoto's gaze turned from fright to pity in an instant. [Your mother was not murdered, Kamui. She chose to give up life.]  
  
A bucket of ice water could not have been more sobering. He let Hinoto fall from his grasp as his gaze shifted from a killer's to a broken child's. "She...what?"  
  
This of course is when Daisuke's wind razors chose to make their rather irritating return.  
  
"GET AWAY FROM THE PRINCESS!"  
  
Kamui turned to glare at him, the anger he still felt smoldering somewhere deep inside finally gaining a target. "You again."  
  
He was beaten to the punch as Trent abruptly rammed the umbrella he'd been carrying into the wind master's stomach.  
  
Daisuke gasped in pain as he fell to his knees. He turned to glare at Trent. "What was that for?"  
  
Trent's eyes shut him up rather quickly. The Assassin had returned for a moment. "You tried to murder me, or have you forgotten already, you misbegotten - "  
  
(WE INTERRUPT THE FIC AT THIS POINT, MAINLY BECAUSE THE VARIOUS SLURS TRENT IS USING AGAINS DAISUKE ARE NOT THE KIND OF THINGS THAT YOU LET OTHER PEOPLE HEAR. PLEASE BEAR WITH US. ALMOST THERE...NO, NOT QUITE, HE'S STILL GOING. WAIT A MINUTE, I THINK HE'S...YEAH, ALMOST...OKAY, HE'S DONE.  
  
WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION.)  
  
Daisuke could only mouth wordless replies to that. Yuzuriha was currently fighting a massive blood surge to the cheek and facial area; she didn't know what a good seventy percent of what he said meant, but what she did understand was scandalizing.  
  
Hajime coughed loudly to try and draw attention back. "Yes, I understand that you're a bit unhappy with him at the moment, but could we kindly get back to the task at hand?" He turned to Trent. "If you can get your mouth under control, would you mind telling us your choice?"  
  
Trent leveled one last glare at Daisuke, but turned back, the assassin back in hiding. "Where's that artifact you said would test me, or whatever?"  
  
Daisuke found his voice again. "Why should we give it to you? Why on earth would we trust any weapon to a potential enemy?"  
  
Trent knelt to glare again at the still-injured wind master. "Well it's like this. See, this artifact thingy is going to test me to see if I really AM their reincarnated brother or whatever. Now, if I'm not, then what's the point of me making a choice anyway, as they won't have any reason to listen to me. As for if I am, well...just ask yourselves this. What right do you have to it anyway?"  
  
[Sohei, please fetch the Cloak.]  
  
One of her attendants looked askance, but wordlessly rose to open a small chest behind the dais, coming out with what looked like a small bolt of white cloth.  
  
Trent frowned at the sight of it as she approached. He wasn't sure why, but it kind of gave him the creeps. Once again, he could only remember that the color of mourning in Japan was white.  
  
Abruptly, a tendril of cloth shot out from the bundil, snaring Trent's wrist, squirming upward to coccoon him before he even had a chance to yelp in shock. The rest of the cloak followed in its wake.  
  
Yuzuriha sweat-dropped at the now-mummified body of Trent. "Um...was that supposed to happen?"  
  
Tsuzuku scowled slightly as he began digging out his wallet. "If Trent wasn't the fourth king, then nothing would have happened. He could have put the cloak on, tried to make something out of it, but if he wasn't Fungsahn then nothing would happen. ANY reaction only occurs when it's the real deal." He dug out a few bills. "Although as none of us have ever seen this happen before and can't remember anything about the ritual the last time, this could mean something else."  
  
Hajime smirked at him as he accepted the sum. "You should trust my instincts a little bit more."  
  
Tsuzuku rolled his eyes. "I DID trust you, I just wasn't sure."  
  
"Shouldn't rely on that book so much," was Amaru's reply as a second, smaller sum found its way into his hands.  
  
Kamui stared at them dully. "You BET whether or not he was actually your fourth king, or whatever he was?"  
  
Hajime nodded calmly, triggering a wave of sweat-drops. "It's not quite as bad as you seem bound and determined to make it. We've been wandering to find him for a long time, and we've gotten a bit...shall we say blasé about it?"  
  
Kamui rolled his eyes and turned to leave. Hinoto managed to sprawl inelegantly towards him. [Kamui! What are you doing?!]  
  
The would-be keystone of existence turned to stare at her in disgust. "Dragons of heaven, dragons of earth...I don't care about any of that." His smirk reached Ikari-esque levels. "You see...I care only about myself."  
  
--------  
  
Trent muttered painfully inside his cocoon. Shortly after Hajime had seemingly tried to kill him, he'd felt this same feeling, as though his body was in the process of trying to pull itself apart. He could feel energy flaring and burning deep inside his ribcage, as though his heart was working fast enough to burn and beat its way free of flesh and bone.  
  
At first he only vaguely understood that he apparently had been a dragon in a previous life. Then he began to see the past, see the memories of everything that had happened in his days as the king of the west.  
  
He began to understand the vast power he held, the understandings of three thousand years finally making his position clear.  
  
Worries he held in the presence of Hinoto, holes in her prophecies and visions began to come clear.  
  
He saw a great MANY things, and few enough of them he wished to remember.  
  
Some things should not have been forgotten.  
  
--------  
  
A brief surge of alarm was the only warning before space abruptly changed beneath the Diet building.  
  
Kamui blinked in shock from where he'd been preparing to incinerate Daisuke. It resembled the inside of some of Hinoto's visions, but only vaguely. For the most part, it looked as though someone had taken the night sky and added a bunch of floating rocks and glass shards the size of reinforced steel girders. "What the hell..."  
  
Daisuke looked around wildly. "What just happened? What is this place?"  
  
"An illusion," Sora remarked. "Pretty high-quality one to, to suck all of us in here like this."  
  
Daisuke stared at him as though questioning his sanity (he was, just in case you wanted to know.) "That's impossible! The Diet building is under Princess Hinoto's shield! Who could have - "  
  
[I believe,] Hinoto said quietly, [that this is one of the dragons of earth.]  
  
Sora grinned in feral delight. "Decided on a direct attack, huh?"  
  
Further talk was shelved as the floating boulders abruptly began to move, launching themselves at the various people like rogue comets.  
  
Daisuke frowned a she dodged. "What are these? More illusions?"  
  
Arashi nodded. "The spell-caster is attacking us through our own minds."  
  
"But if they're only illusions, then how can they -"  
  
Amaru grinned from nearby as he nimbly leapfrogged one of the boulders. "The boulders themselves aren't real, but we'll still feel pain if they hit us. Too much pain, you go into shock. That's all it takes to kill you."  
  
Sora nimbly dodged another. "So if we want to get out of here, then we need to break the spellcaster's glamour first, right?" Cracking his knuckles, he assumed a prayer stance. "Better get started then." Closing his eyes, he began chanting, ignoring for the moment the flying boulders. Just before they could manage to pulp him, he unleashed a surge of electricity, engulfing himself in a pillar of lightning.  
  
"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!" Kamui snarled as his own telekinetic surges started powdering the various projectiles.  
  
Hajime swiped his sword towards another wave of boulders, cleaving them neatly. "How many of these things do you think we're going to actually have to deal with? You'd think the spell-caster would get tired after a long enough battle."  
  
Tsuzuku watched with a detached interest as more and more boulders shattered on impact with his body. "In theory, I suppose so. Still, if this mage is strong and skilled enough to have the confidence to win this kind of engagement, then that will most likely take a while."  
  
Yuzuriha gaped at Tsuzuku. "Why aren't you defending yourself? Don't those hurt?"  
  
He smiled at her tolerantly. "Not at all. I've convinced myself so completely that they aren't capable of damaging me that the illusion is worthless."  
  
Kamui snarled irritably as more boulders than before materialized. "I've had enough of this farce." Channeling his powers to their fullest, he unleashed a massive storm of psionic might, shattering his surroundings in a display disturbingly reminiscent of a mirror shattering.  
  
Revealing completely unchanged surroundings underneath.  
  
Hinoto shook her head. "The spell-caster reinforced the illusion; he does not wish us to be able to break free so easily."  
  
Kamui dodged as another set of boulders continued swarming around him, the newest batches flattening into sharper chunks. "So then how the hell do we get out of here?"  
  
Arashi shrugged. "We still have to break the barrier. It's just a question of how." Drawing her katana into a stabbing stance, she lashed it towards the incoming boulders.  
  
That they froze before striking her is the only reason she missed.  
  
Hajime paused as he looked around. Every single flying object was at the moment frozen in midair. "Who's doing this now?"  
  
A whisper of air was his answer.  
  
He wasn't the only one to experience a bit of a chill down his spine as he turned to regard the (until now) motionless white bundle that had been Trent not too long ago.  
  
Whereas it had originally been nothing more than some shapeless bundle that made its host resemble some kind of poorly made mummy, it now flowed like liquid across his shoulders, a fall of snow and spider webs made manifest. He looked around calmly at the various people watching him from within a full, shadowed hood. Raising a single hand, he Called the winds.  
  
Their answer began a swirling wave of force and raw elemental power, weaving a circular wall around him, ever-expanding.  
  
And everywhere it touched, it scoured the glamour clean.  
  
Daisuke swallowed nervously at the figure. He'd recognized the power for wind-manipulation, but it had been at a level he recognized to be a bit...well, in excess of his own. By about a factor of thirty. He began to hope quietly (and not in any place he would have admitted it) that Trent wasn't really going to hold a grudge.  
  
Hajime smiled as he sheathed his sword. "Fungsahn, I presume?"  
  
Trent turned, still clad in a regal aura of mystique, and then completely shattered the moment. "You're only supposed to use that quote if there's a doctor in the house." Throwing back the hood, he scratched at the clasp irritably. "God I feel ridiculous in this thing. Sure, it looks cool, but who wears a cloak these days anyway?" Still frowning, he glared at the offending garment as it began to shift around into the shape of a trench coat. He tried altering color, but he could only seem to manage a not- quite-charcoal-gray before it stubbornly refused to comply further. "Ah well. Would have preferred black, but I guess this'll do." Turning to the three he grinned. "I'm back. If you expect a joyous hug or speech then you lied about being my relatives. That being said, shall we go?"  
  
Amaru laughed.  
  
Sora coughed. "Uh...listen, aren't you supposed to make a choice or something about the dragons of heaven?"  
  
Trent turned to him, a look speaking of a complete lack of care. "My choice? I thought it would be obvious." Stooping just long enough to retrieve his umbrella, he strode out the door.  
  
"I have no intention of joining the dragons of heaven."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: Ain't I a stinker? I COULD have just told you outright what happens next, but where would be the fun in that? Remember how Trent got along so well with Xellos? There's a reason for that; they all like secrets. So while you WILL find out in the next chapter, you don't get any hints for about a week. Nyah!  
  
(1) - This is a bit of an inside joke between a few friends and me. Sorry, but I really couldn't resist. 


	5. Chapter Four: If it's not the end of the...

Bolero  
  
Chapter Four If it's not the end of the world...  
  
Kamui stared at Trent. "You're...you're not going to join us?"  
  
Trent shrugged tolerantly. "Nope. Don't get me wrong, I certainly agree that saving all of humanity is important, a completely worth goal. I just don't think that any of you are doing the right thing."  
  
Daisuke glared at him. "And you can do better?" He snorted in disgust.  
  
Trent turned to arch an eyebrow at him. "You know, I don't really mind that you tried to kill me anymore. But I won't hesitate to kill you if you don't shut up."  
  
Hinoto turned pleading eyes on him. [You showed us such power mere moments ago; with you at our side, the survival of humanity would be assured. Please, give us your aid.]  
  
Trent looked at her for several moments in silence, carefully choosing his words. "That is precisely the thinking that is going to destroy the civilizations of this world." Turning away, he began strolling idly towards the door, completely ignoring the telepathic pleas still being flung after him. He paused at the door, turning back to smile ingratiatingly at Daisuke. "Nice attempt, really. But I control the wind, and to a degree that you couldn't possibly imagine. So don't waste your time or energy; your powers won't even function without my say-so." With that, he left.  
  
Hajime turned to Daisuke curiously. "You tried to kill him again?"  
  
"I haven't the faintest idea what he was talking about," Daisuke returned irritably.  
  
"You're a terrible liar," Tsuzuku remarked unconcernedly. Snapping his book shut, he calmly transformed it into a leather wallet, pocketing his Artifact. "Well, we should be going. You no doubt want to decide things among yourselves, and we should hardly be considered the ones you want to hear your plans."  
  
Yuzuriha frowned, biting at her lip as the three brothers followed Trent. "Should...shouldn't we try to stop them?"  
  
Sora shook his head, smiling easily. "Don't worry. I don't think that he's going to try and murder us in our sleep. He's got to make his own choices." He sighed, chuckling lightly. "Just like the rest of us." For once, he allowed his face to turn serious. "Besides, you saw what he was capable of. Even if we wanted to try and stop him, there's not a great deal that we could do."  
  
--------  
  
Trent looked up as Tsuzuku arrived. "Do you mind if I use your book for a minute?"  
  
Tsuzuku blinked in confusion. "You haven't seen us in three thousand years, and all you can ask is 'can I use your book?'"  
  
Trent sighed. "We're not with the dragons of heaven, but we still live on this world. So whether we like it or not, we're stuck trying to deal with the mess they managed to make. We don't have much choice but to try and keep them from destroying the planet and all pertinent life on it." He shrugged helplessly. "So not to put to fine a point on it, I have work to do, and I need to know what I'm up against if I'm going to do it properly."  
  
Tsuzuku shook his head as he handed over the red-bound tome. "I don't remember you being this duty-bound in the old days."  
  
Trent's eyes turned guarded. "Things change. I remember too many things that should have been different."  
  
"What?"  
  
Trent ignored him as he began leafing through the pages of the book. For almost half an hour, he did nothing but read silently. Finally, he closed the book. "I was afraid of that."  
  
Hajime frowned as Trent returned the book. "What's going on?"  
  
Trent turned to face west. "Things are happening. Today, the world starts to end if those idiots keep acting the way they have."  
  
Hajime sighed. "So what do we do?"  
  
Trent frowned in confusion. "What, you're giving me command?"  
  
Hajime chuckled dryly. "Better you than me."  
  
Trent paused, then nodded quietly. "Alright. Amaru, you need to come with me. Tsuzuku, I need research from you. Get me all the information you can on the seismic and meteorological conditions of the planet. If you get that done in a hurry, get me biographical information on the seven harbingers and the seals." He paused. "Oh yeah, one more thing. Find a woman named Kanoe; she's Hinoto's younger sister. Do that BEFORE you worry about the other harbingers." He turned to Hajime. "I want you to go to Sunshine 60. Poke around the ley lines and such; you should feel something...off, if nothing else. Just try and clean up any problems with the earth energy of the area."  
  
Amaru looked askance. "Um...what are we going to do?"  
  
Trent smiled. "We're going to go and play around with Kamui's family life, and in the process see how badly we can louse up everyone else's plans for his destiny."  
  
--------  
  
Tokiko smiled fondly at her nephew as she felt herself rise above him. "Today is the day, Kamui. What happens now must happen, or it can never do so again. I'm sorry I didn't have any more time for this, but we can't fight destiny." Her smile turned sad, tender. "Good-bye."  
  
" 'I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello.' "  
  
Kamui stared as some kind of white...thing slithered across the floor, cocooning his aunt. "What the - "  
  
Trent ignored him as tendrils of his cloak finished tying off the seals currently trying to slaughter his school nurse. "Tell me Amaru, would you consider the administration of a cesarean of sorts to fall within the bounds of your staff's healing abilities."  
  
Amaru gave him an odd look. "Yeeeeaaaaahhhh, but what does that have to do with the situation here?"  
  
Trent smiled at the currently goggling Kamui. "Well, at the moment there is something inside Miss Magami's body that is trying rather desperately to get out, something her body has been protecting and nurturing for quite a while. It's not a baby, but I think it's close enough."  
  
Amaru shook his head as he approached the bundle. "You know, six months ago something like this would have struck me as just plain weird, if not impossible. Now..." he sighed. "You'll need to open a relatively small section of your cloak for whatever it is that's supposed to come out, or there's no way to do it." He frowned as the cloak's folds slid open, the only space revealed to be a slit two inches wide and a foot long. "Seems a bit small, but...you know what's supposed to come out, I'll assume you know what we're doing."  
  
Kamui stared in horrified fascination as light from Amaru's staff began to shift...well, something inside his aunt. The horror content increased somewhat as Trent reached inside the slit to grab something. Horror lessened to be replaced by wonder and confusion as it proved to be the hilt of a second sacred sword.  
  
Trent regarded the weapon for a few moments, then tossed it idly into Kamui's numbed hands. "Three men are going to show up sooner or later to talk with you. I'm not sure what about, but don't arbitrarily kill them for it." With that, he and Amaru leapt back out of the room, leaving (in this order) a dumbfounded Kamui, a slightly hysterical Kotori (she'd just come in and demanded to know what had happened), a thoughtful if somewhat creepy Fuma, and a thoroughly exhausted (not to mention naked) Tokiko.  
  
As such, when the predicted three men arrived, it was to a scene that took a lot longer to explain than they had originally planned.  
  
--------  
  
Fuma smiled, and it was not sane. "So be it, Kamui. You're choice has been made, as is mine."  
  
Kamui stared as his one-time best friend casually threw him into the wall. Gasping through his pain, he could only stare as windows shattered around them, shards of glass lancing down to pin him to the wall.  
  
Fuma grinned as he lofted Kotori into the air, steel I-beams pulling themselves from the Clamp Academy's buildings to form a crucifix, Kotori spread on the cross. "I am your twin star, you must understand. I exist solely for your sake. Whatever choices you make, I am bound by our twin destinies to make the opposite." He grinned devilishly as the sacred sword flew into his hands as he poised it over his sister's chest. "Thus when you chose to protect Kotori, my choice was clear. Her death."  
  
The downward plunge was interrupted rather spectacularly by a hardened wisp of cloth. It abruptly slithered and flowed, splitting into a cat 'o nine tails of white material, each lash easily severing the cables binding the girl to her iron cross. Further flaps of the white cloak gently drew her down, the last of the cloak flaring outwards to shield her. The final extended tendrils attacked Fuma himself.  
  
He was Kamui's twin star, his equal. While Kamui had power equal to his, Fuma was using it with absolutely no fear of loss, no need to check his destructive force. The telekinetic storm of raw power broke against soul- woven mantle as the energies were whisked away to form a massive cyclone of destructive power.  
  
On the one side stood a mad force destined to wipe out humanity. On the other stood a living, breathing elemental force of nature.  
  
The battle lasted only moments.  
  
Trent smiled grimly as he floated down towards a currently bound Fuma. "You seem to have a knack for making my life difficult."  
  
Fuma smiled back. "What you have done changes nothing. What is to be has been set down by forces far greater than you or I. The fated day will come, and nothing can stop it."  
  
Trent shrugged unconcernedly. "I've found that fate is the mistress of 'what if.' She has control over events, but I think you'd be amazed at how little it takes to derail what 'is to be.'" He sighed as he turned to Kamui. "The problem with schools these days is that learning teaches people that you don't have to think, the formulas are all you need."  
  
Amaru approached, but stopped as Trent lofted Kotori towards him. "Heal her first. Kamui's tougher than you think, and something tells me that he's going to be a lot less happy if he gets better before her."  
  
Turning to the currently impaled 'hunter of god,' he crouched next to him. "So, you've heard at least a tiny bit of what Kanoe has to say, and you've heard what Hinoto has to say. Interested in a third party?"  
  
Kamui turned glazed eyes on him. "Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
Kamui stared listlessly as Amaru approached, Kotori still wrapped in the layers of Trent's cloak. "Why me? Why did God decide that I'm the one who has to decide the fate of the world? Why am I the one stuck with having to weigh all of humanity against the people I love?"  
  
Trent's smile faded slowly into sympathetic respect. "I think you need to hear what I have to say." He turned to Amaru. "Is he okay?"  
  
Amaru shook his head concernedly. "I don't know. I've done everything I can, but it might not be enough." He turned helpless eyes to Trent. "My staff can heal bodies, and minds to some degree. Hearts and Souls are a bit beyond my reach."  
  
Trent sighed as he began to build a small, private room from the expanding layers of his cloak. "Think you can hold down the fort for a few minutes?"  
  
Amaru grinned weakly. "If I can't, Tokyo's going to be reduced to a crater."  
  
Trent winced. "Good point. Try not to get nearly-killed." Slinging one of Kamui's arms over his shoulder, he began dragging him into the room. "Sorry about this, but you really do need to know what your choices are. ALL of them. At least somebody needs to tell you."  
  
--------  
  
Kamui looked around, some slight amount of life returning to his eyes. "Cool." The room wasn't much; just a cube of white, roughly four meters across. The only other features were the chair-like extensions on the floor. "How much can your cloak do?"  
  
Trent shrugged as he sank into one of the seats. "I can affect the wind in human form, but most of my powers are in this." He smiled. "Though it's probably more useful. I can form the cloth into just about anything I want, within some size limitations. It's virtually indestructible, and it protects me from almost any environmental condition you could think of, from the bottom of the ocean to hard vacuum to the middle of the Sahara."  
  
Kamui smiled wanly as he sank into his own chair. "Handy." Looking around, he chose to break the silence. "So, what are you going to tell me that I haven't heard yet? Am I supposed to also bring back everyone after I kill them trying to protect them?"  
  
Trent raised an eyebrow. "You've watched Evangelion, I assume." At Kamui's failure to respond, he shrugged it off. "Have you ever played a video game called Soul Reaver?" At Kamui's puzzled look, he continued. "It's a game about a man named Raziel, who similar to you is being put through all kinds of trials and such by people who claim to know what it is he really wants, and who claim that he's destined to do it." He shrugged as he dug a quarter out of his pocket. "Anyway, there's a quote from there I'd like you to think about. 'Toss a coin, and it will always land heads or tails. But, if you flip it long enough, what do you do one day, when it lands on its edge?'" He flung it into the air.  
  
Kamui watched in detached interest, as the coin indeed landed on its edge. "You did that."  
  
Trent smiled. "Of course I did. While in theory it's possible for a tossed coin to land on its edge, the precise amount of force necessary to keep it there is damn near impossible to attain. So in real life, you never find completely legal coins doing that."  
  
"What does this have to do with me?"  
  
Trent shrugged as he leaned back into his 'chair'. "Let's say that coin was whether or not you chose to be a dragon of heaven or a dragon of earth; heads for heaven, tails for earth. Now, as neither choice has been presented by the coin, what would you do?"  
  
Kamui snorted. "I'd toss it again, and then choose."  
  
"But what if the coin KEEPS landing on edge?"  
  
"I'd choose a different way to make my choice."  
  
Trent sighed. "Alright, let's try it this way then. Fuma just told you outright that whatever you choose to do, he's going to do the opposite. Remember that?" At Kamui's wince, he continued. "Let's try a math analogy. If you choose a positive number, then Fuma is required to choose the exact same number, though negative, and vice-versa."  
  
Kamui glared at him. Kotori was safe, He was fairly sure that Fuma was back to normal, and was getting there himself. "What does this have to do with anything?"  
  
Trent closed his eyes, silently counting to ten. "The definition of a real number any whole number, positive or negative, and all other possible values in between those numbers. However," he added, "is every number either positive or negative?"  
  
Kamui groaned. "Will you please just get to the point?"  
  
Trent glared right back at him. "There is one number that is neither positive nor negative. What is it?"  
  
"Infinity?"  
  
"NNNGGGGGGGG! WRONG! YOU FLUNK! Infinity can be either positive or negative." Trent leaned forward. "The only number known to mathematics that is neither positive nor negative is Zero."  
  
Kamui rolled his eyes. "Okay, now what?"  
  
Trent silently counted to ten. Then again. And again. And silently asked why the fate of humanity rested on the shoulders of an imbecile. "You know, I've been trying to be an advisor. Dropping hints so that you could make a decision for yourself. Apparently, that's not going to work. Fine. I'll spell it out." His hands shot out, yanking Kamui out of his chair to within inches of Trent's face. "What. If. You. Choose. Not. To. Be. A. Dragon. Of. Heaven. Or. Of. Earth."  
  
Kamui blinked in confusion. "Then what am I supposed to do?"  
  
Trent was about to just go ahead and slap him when he paused. Slowly releasing Kamui he dropped back into his seat. "Of course...I didn't realize. Your entire life, you've been told that you had a destiny, and now you can't even think about an alternative." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been short with you." Composing himself, he gazed Kamui in the eye. "As I understand it, you chose to be a dragon of heaven because you thought that would be the best way to protect Kotori. So tell me, what does one have to do with the other?"  
  
Kamui blinked. "If I save humanity, then I'm obviously going to save Kotori."  
  
Trent snorted in disdain. "Why do you care about humanity?"  
  
Kamui stared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of COURSE - "  
  
"Who's humanity?" Trent interrupted. "Let me tell you something. There are six and a half billion humans on this planet. Thousands have died from cancer, food poisoning, random bullets, old age, and drugs in the time its taken us to have this conversation. Does that make you feel sad?"  
  
Kamui frowned. "Well..."  
  
Trent snorted. "No, it doesn't, does it. And why should it? Sure, if one of those thousands happens to be someone you know, you'd care. But six billion people? No one on this planet knows six billion people, and neither do you." He shook his head. "There's a saying; a single death is a tragedy, a million deaths are just a statistic. Do you know why they say cheesy stuff like that? Because it's true. If all humanity is wiped out, then everyone will be sad because they lost at least one person they care about, but will they ever stop to think about the other six billion people who are suffering? I doubt it."  
  
"So what are you saying?" Kamui bit out. "That I shouldn't care?"  
  
"What I'm saying," Trent said, "is that if you want to protect Kotori, then do so. But don't think that you have to protect every man woman and child on this planet in the process. And you don't have to kill them either; you don't have the right to decide six billion fates. I sure as hell don't."  
  
Kamui looked at him as the room began to unweave. "Hold it."  
  
Trent turned to look at him. "Yes?"  
  
Kamui frowned. "Is that everything you know?"  
  
Trent clucked his tongue. "You don't trust me?"  
  
Kamui's eyes narrowed. "I trust you more than I do Kanoe. And more than Hinoto. But not too much."  
  
Trent gave him his most earnest look. "That, young Shiro, is the most intelligent thing I have heard from you since we met. I personally feel that you shouldn't join the dragons of heaven OR the dragons of earth, but that's my choice and opinion, and you have to make your own." He idly straightened the cuffs of his jacket, unnecessarily so one might add. "There are any number of things I know that I'm not saying, many that would effect your choice. However, there is one in particular that I withhold. One that would cause you not to choose, but to simply do precisely as I want." He smiled, and sketched a bow. "If you want to talk more, I'm going to be somewhere along the coast, I think. Amaru will be able to find me.'  
  
--------  
  
Trent idly looked out across the waves. It hadn't been easy to find a stretch of completely deserted beach, let alone one that he felt suited his mood properly. He'd ended up all the way in Kyushu before he found one he wanted; a shear cliff overlooking the sea, cedars behind him.  
  
He thought back to what he'd learned within the cloak, comparing to what he knew now, what he felt now. Turning to watch the sunset, he began quietly speaking.  
  
"It was many and many a year ago,  
  
In a kingdom by the sea,  
  
That a maiden there lived whom you may know,  
  
By the name of Annabel Lee;  
  
And this maiden she lived with no other thought,  
  
Than to love and be loved by me."  
  
"I was a child, and SHE was a child,  
  
In this kingdom by the sea,  
  
But we loved with a love that was more than love--  
  
I and my Annabel Lee--  
  
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven  
  
Coveted her and me."  
  
"And this was the reason that, long ago,  
  
In this kingdom by the sea,  
  
A wind blew out of a cloud, killing  
  
My beautiful Annabel Lee;  
  
So that her highborn kinsmen came,  
  
And bore her away from me,  
  
To shut her up in a sepulcher  
  
In this kingdom by the sea."  
  
"The angels, not half so happy in heaven,  
  
Went envying her and me--  
  
Yes!--that was the reason (as all men know,  
  
In this kingdom by the sea)  
  
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,  
  
Chilling and Killing my Annabel Lee."  
  
"But our love it was stronger by far than the love  
  
Of those who were older than we--  
  
Of many far wiser than we--  
  
And neither the angels in heaven above,  
  
Nor the demons down by the sea,  
  
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul  
  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee-"  
  
"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams  
  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
  
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes  
  
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;  
  
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side  
  
Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride,  
  
In the sepulcher there by the sea  
  
In her tomb by the sounding sea."  
  
"Did you write that?"  
  
Trent turned towards Kamui's voice, smiling slightly. "Of course not. It was written by Edgar Allen Poe, after the death of his wife." He shook his head as he turned back to watch the sunset. "Did you know, he convinced his widowed aunt to have an affair with him? He later ended up marrying his fourteen-year-old cousin." He shook his head. "He was a twisted man, Poe. A genius, but twisted nonetheless."  
  
Kamui strolled over, watching the sunset for a time. "Fuma doesn't remember what happened, and Kotori's convinced that it doesn't mean anything."  
  
Trent nodded. "I figured as much. Your choice has been thrown into turmoil, and now theirs are as well."  
  
Kamui nodded quietly. "I've been giving it a lot of thought. Talking it over with the people at the Clamp Academy, the other dragons, with Tokiko..." he paused. "I never did thank you for saving her life, come to think of it."  
  
Trent waved it off. "It needed to be done."  
  
Kamui smiled sadly. "Thank you." At Trent's silence, he sighed and continued. "I've given it thought, but I can't decide." He turned to face Trent. "What didn't you tell me? What's so important that you knew it would completely follow your advice?"  
  
Trent sighed. "I don't like to alter people's choices."  
  
"Bit late for that," came Hajime's voice. "You've effected our choices, the dragons of heaven AND earth, and a great many others."  
  
Tsuzuku chuckled warmly. "Kanoe and Hinoto are both on the edge of insanity; their dreams of the future refuse to stay consistent. Between you effecting what was to be and Hajime's geomancing, the fated day seems to be on hold."  
  
Trent smiled. "Good. Fate shouldn't be like this in the first place."  
  
"Tell me," Kamui interrupted. "I have a right to know."  
  
Trent looked at the set of his shoulders, the focus in his eyes, and sighed. "What I've been doing is a combination of things. Part of it involves just basic knowledge, part intuition, part of what my senses as Fungsahn tell me, and part of it is my experience in past lives. The bulk of it though is from Tsuzuku's Tome." Stooping, he flicked a pair of rocks off the cliff. "You see, all of our artifacts have some limitations. Amaru can't heal souls or hearts; my cloak can only protect me, not the people around me; Hajime's sword can only cut and destroy; Tsuzuku's book can only tell him information pertaining to the past and the present." He smiled. "At least until we figure out how to justify things. You see, a dream-seer sees what is most likely to come, and then has their attendants go around and work themselves to death making sure things happen as the dream says it should, and it all seems really coincidental. However, their dreams are taking place in the present." His smile turned impish. "As such, Tsuzuku's book, though it can't tell the future, CAN tell us what dream-seers think the future will entail."  
  
Kamui was silent for a moment, digesting that. "So what do they think My future entails?"  
  
Trent's smile wavered and die. "Their visions, at least until I garbled them up, all revolve around whether or not you become a dragon of heaven or earth." He sighed. "What I didn't want to tell you involves Fuma. You've already seen what the first thing he'll do is if you choose to be a dragon of heaven. Kotori, dead crucified." He remained silent for a time. "That is the consequence of your choice to be a dragon of heaven; Kotori or the rest of humanity. What you aren't aware of is what will happen if you choose dragon of earth."  
  
"Please," broke in Kamui. "Just tell me."  
  
Trent sighed. "Dragon of heaven, and you watch in horror as your twin star murders the woman you love. Dragon of earth, and it's vice-versa." He turned an unblinking gaze on Kamui. "If you choose the Dragons of Earth, YOU are the one who's going to murder Kotori."  
  
Kamui stared at him in shock, shock that slowly subsided into hardened resolve. "And what about your choice? If I do neither?"  
  
Trent shrugged. "Unlike the other two, my choice isn't written in stone. "It's not even supposed to exist." He shrugged helplessly. "We don't know the future, and I for one prefer it that way. It simplifies things greatly. So while I can't tell you that choosing neither side will ensure Kotori's safety, I can at least tell you that you have a MUCH better chance of her getting to live."  
  
Kamui watched him for a moment, then turned to look over the ocean. "That poem I heard you recite; you lost someone you cared about?"  
  
Trent turned to him. "It's not something I recommend."  
  
Kamui smiled wistfully. "You were right. It would color my choice." Reaching into his uniform jacket, he pulled out a pair of letters, and let them drop into the sea. "The murderer of God's will is dead, as is the herald of his will." He smiled as he watched the ocean. "All that is left is I."  
  
Trent smiled. There was a chance to save this poor world, but he only hoped that he would be allowed to do it.  
  
To be continued...  
  
Author's Notes: I realize that I glossed over quite a few of the details of X, but as I think I mentioned before, this isn't really ABOUT X/1999, this is about Trent and the dragon kings. As to why I decided to do this? I'm on book eleven of the manga and have seen the movie, and both struck me as being just plain disgraceful. I mean come on, the movie spends an hour and a half developing characters just so they can all be slaughtered alongside the rest of humanity to prove some as yet unclear metaphysical point. Tell me that this doesn't need to be rectified. And mean it. 


End file.
